


Dossier: Archangel

by Naamah_Beherit



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1520609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naamah_Beherit/pseuds/Naamah_Beherit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Shepard arrives at Omega to recruit the Archangel, she knows neither about his team, nor about the fact that he might not be willing to join her in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be undergoing revision in the near future.

The Afterlife was buzzing with life, crowded, loud and dark. Shepard downed the fourth drink and absent-mindedly ran her fingers down her arm. And up. And down again, as though it would magically turn back the time and allow her to regain a small, blue tattoo she had had there. Only it could not, and the tattoo was gone. Funny thing, two years ago there was the time when she had despised that simple ornament, that little amount of blue ink under her skin. But she had died and was brought back to life – despite the impossibility of such an action –and there was nothing that could link her to her past. She lost friends and acquaintances. The scars from Torfan, Eden Prime and Feros were no more on her body. No burns and badly healed bones in her right leg, causing her to limp slightly – the souvenirs whispering about the battle of the Citadel. And no blue tattoo, the only thing which could remind her that she had been married.

She never thought she would get married one day. It sounded somehow wrong, for she was first a soldier, then a Spectre, and being just a woman had been lost somewhere during all those years of service. A prospect of his wife dying at an unspecified time and in an unspecified place was not quite appealing for the majority of men. Marriage still meant some kind of stability – a house, a dog, kids and boring life; everything that Shepard simply did not find interesting. She needed a thrill of action, a spark of adrenaline she could find only in battles. And yet she had married someone – and that someone, of all people in the galaxy, had been Garrus Vakarian.

And it had been all Wrex’s fault.

Damned krogan had been bored during their hunt after Saren. She was not surprised, long hours spent on the ship and only brief missions as distractions... It had been getting on her nerves too, causing a state that had been almost a cabin fever, but at least she had not been killing the time with finding every bit of embarrassing information about her team-mates that had been possible to find. Wrex had, and one of the most hilarious things he had figured out had been Garrus’ attraction to her. There had been no day free of him telling her ‘ _He has a crush on you!’_ , mostly in the turian’s presence. Shepard had known that damn well, it had not been hard to find out at all. Vakarian’s devotion and joy, the sparks appearing in his eyes every time he had seen her... it had been all she had needed to know.

She would lie if she told that the interest had not been mutual, but she had not been as willing as he to test a possibility of a working interspecies relationship. He had been her subordinate and a turian, she had been the first human Spectre, and if anyone would ever find out... The Council would most likely eat her alive; the turian councillor would be the one suggesting it. Udina would have a heart attack – which would not be so bad actually. Anderson would say nothing, but the disappointment in his eyes would be the worst of all those reactions. Hence having a little fun with Garrus had been impossible, even though she wanted it.

So she had been trying to discourage him by being a rude commanding officer during missions and a cold-hearted bitch after them, although it had been breaking the remnants of her heart. She had just hoped he would understand and some day say something like ‘ _Hey, it’s okay, can we be friends?’_. She would get over those misplaced feeling for him. She really would.

But it had never happened. They had docked in the Citadel to get more supplies and have a shore leave before the mission on Virmire. The crew had deserved it, the team as well, and there had been nothing more Shepard had wanted than drinking herself to sleep, only to forget about the blue-eyed turian longing for her and the impossibility of her own lingering need. She had been a mature woman, able to separate what she had wanted from what she could do. As painful as it had been, she could not have Vakarian as her partner and lover. Thus she had left the _Normandy_ as the last one, leaving only Joker in the cockpit and a few engineers on the lower decks. She had chosen to go to Flux instead of Chora’s Den, knowing that the most of her crewmen would spend their shore leave getting wasted in the nightclub, listening to the crappy music and watching cheap asari strippers. And everything had been going quite well to the moment when Wrex – along with Garrus, Tali and Liara – had come to Flux as well. Shepard had never found out why. Had they been looking for her? Or maybe had Chora’s Den been too crowded?

Had she been sober, she would have left and reached the limits of her tolerance to the alcohol in the privacy of her cabin. But she had not been sober enough, and she had allowed herself to be told into staying and drinking ryncol with the krogan. Drinking on dare had always been her weakness – everybody had known that telling her ‘ _I bet you won’t do this’_ had been the best – and the only – way to actually make her do something. Wrex had known that as well, and his big, evil grin had been the last thing she remembered.

* * *

_She woke up when her mind finally forced her to emerge from the depths of sweet oblivion and face the bitter reality. She opened her eyes and closed them again, wincing, feeling the unspeakable pain as if someone was plunging needles into her brain. Her throat was dry and burning like Therum’s surface, her skin was itching and her thighs were aching._

Thighs...? What the hell?

_She sat up carefully, preparing herself for the wave of nausea and dizziness. When they passed, she looked around in a futile search for a bottle of water. Two things struck her: first – she was naked, and she never slept naked; and second – her clothes lay everywhere, tangled with pieces of blue-and-black light armour she knew all too well. Terror set up a nest inside her, forbidding her to look at the bed, but she gathered her – particularly small at that moment – courage and turned around._

_Had the situation been different, she would have smiled at the sight of Garrus sleeping in her bed and hugging tightly one of the pillows. He looked a lot younger without his ever-present visor and the armour, without the serious expression on his face and hurt in his eyes, when she had said ‘_ Leave me alone, turian’ _again, but deep inside her soul she would someday like to be able to say ‘_ Yes, I want to see if we can make this work’ _. She did not know which one of them was more heartbroken by her attitude._

_But the situation was not different, and probably for the first time in her life she did not know what to do. It was already obvious what had happened between them, even before she noticed scratches covering the skin of her inner thighs. She recognised that familiar warm and fuzzy feeling, characteristic only for a morning after a night of good sex._

_Fuck, she bedded her subordinate, and a turian at that. The only person that trusted her and practically gave her his heart despite she was trying so hard to pretend that he meant nothing to her._

Good call, Jane. Good call.

_She groaned and scratched her arms. Why the hell was her skin itching so badly? She could not see well because of the dim lights in her cabin, but she had a vague impression that there was a rash on her skin. She hoped it was caused by ryncol, not by what... they did. Whatever it was. And yet she knew it was a futile hope._

_“Oh, spirits...”_

_She jumped, startled by Garrus’ muffled words, and quickly put on her underwear. It seemed ridiculous, given their night together which she did not remember at all, but she did not want him to see her naked. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed that he put the pillow he was hugging onto his face. She chuckled; that simple gesture was everything she needed to realise that he had a hangover as big as her own. That was oddly reassuring, for he hopefully did not remember what happened. It could be relatively less awkward._

_After a while of consideration she poked him in the hand. “Hey, Vakarian, are you awake?”_

(How are you feeling, Garrus?)

_The turian took the pillow off his face, winced and looked at her. His eyes widened at the sight of her almost naked body, then he glanced at himself. Mandibles quivering, he wrapped the sheets tighter around his body. She could not help but stare at him – she never saw a naked turian before._

_His body was completely alien and yet strangely appealing; silver plates and scales, and light-brown skin completed the image of relentless predator he was on the battlefield. She knew he was dangerous – but not to her. To her, he was gentle and patient, and – despite everything she had done and said – still on her side. Maybe that was why she found him so attractive – she was a moth flying towards a flame of his honour and pride._

_Shit, why did the universe make their relationship impossible?_

_“I’ve never had hallucinations after drinking,” he murmured._

_“What’s the last thing you remember?” she asked, not straightening out his thought about the hallucinations. He would find out soon enough._

_“Wrex ordered drinks for me, when he was drinking ryncol with you... I mean, with Jane,” he said and sat, supporting his weight on his elbows. “I knew it was strong, but I didn’t know_ how _strong...”_

 _‘Jane’_ , _she thought,_ huh? I guess I should’ve known you wouldn’t think about me as ‘ _Shepard’_ or ‘ _Commander’_.

_“I’m gonna kill that krogan,” she growled and turned around, looking for her clothes._

_“Uh... why do you have my facial markings tattooed on your arm?” Garrus asked and she froze. One glance confirmed his words and she muttered a stream of curses, which got quite inventive at the end._

_“I don’t know,” she said at last in a defeated voice. “I don’t remember.”_

_Vakarian blinked few times and cleared his throat. “You’re...” he started sheepishly, “you’re not a hallucination, are you?”_

_“Of course not.”_

_“Did we...?” he waved his hand, his words trailing away. She nodded, not looking at him and putting on her trousers. She was trying to prevent her hands from shaking._

_After a moment she heard a whisper of sheets, when he got up to collect his own clothing and get dressed. “Well, this is awkward...”_

_“Oh, thank you, Captain Obvious,” she gave a bitter, sarcastic laugh. That was the understatement of the year. Zipping the jacket of her uniform, she wondered briefly about the consequences. Those were unspeakable._

_She stopped thinking and shivered, when he put a hand on her shoulder. It should not have felt_ that _good._

_“Jane...”_

_“Don’t,” she whispered and took a few steps away from him. “I... I didn’t allow you to call me that.”_

_He gave a surprised sound and she looked at him. For the first time she knew him, he was looking at her with anger in his eyes. Anger directed at her._

_“What do you want from me, Vakarian?” she snapped at him, not knowing what else to do._

_“What do_ you _want?” he retorted. “Don’t you tell me you intend to act like nothing happened.”_

 _“What I want...” she hesitated for a moment._ (I want to try it with you). _“What I want is irrelevant. What I_ can _do is all that matters. And it’s sure like hell I_ can’t _be with you.”_

_His mandibles fluttered, but the anger in his eyes subsided, replaced by hurt she knew all too well. She cursed herself, but what did it matter if she added just another regret to her list? Surely she could not hate herself more._

_“Just...”_ (Please, Garrus, don’t go, I’m sorry). _“Get the hell out of here, Vakarian. Leave me alone.”_

_He opened his mouth to answer, but was too slow. David Anderson stormed into the room, not bothering to knock, call, or wait for permission. She straightened unconsciously, for she had never seen him so furious._

_”What the hell do you think you’re doing, Commander?” he started at the same moment he entered her quarters. “Have you completely lost your mind?!”_

_She noticed Garrus taking a protective stance by her side, and that gave her enough courage to look into the eyes of her old commanding officer – despite the fact that his shouts were tearing her aching head in half. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain. Care to explain?”_

_“I’m talking about you two,” the old man folded his arms. “You’re lucky that the media didn’t find out yet, but the Council’s pissed off. I can’t blame them, for me it’s also unimaginable.”_

_“Captain,” she shuffled her feet, puzzled beyond imagination, “I don’t know what’s so unimaginable in drinking on a shore leave.”_

_Anderson glanced at Garrus, then transfixed his gaze back on her. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?”_

_“No, sir. The last thing I remember is drinking ryncol with Wrex.”_

_He gaped at her and she just shrugged. Let that be her answer._

_“Well... You can call yourself ‘_ Shepard-Vakarian _’ now.”_

_“What?” the turian spluttered, for she became speechless._

_“Congratulations,” Anderson gave them a mocking salute. “Yesterday, when you were too drunk to know what you’re doing anymore, you two got married.”_

* * *

She had not wanted to believe him, she had simply refused to acknowledge that fact. It had been too bizarre to register, too sudden and too unbelievable. It had sounded like a joke. A _very_ bad joke.

So she had checked the Alliance database, knowing that it had been the best source of information – if it had been working. And – oh, the mystery of the century – she had logged in successfully without the ‘ _data corrupted’_ greeting. It had taken only a while to check her IDs. To her utter disbelief, anger and some kind of disappointment, the data had confirmed Anderson’s words – the days of her freedom had ended with ‘ _Vakarian’_ added to her last name. She had indeed married a turian – no matter how impossible it had seemed.

She had refused to talk about the issue during the flight to Virmire. She had chased him away after it and before Ilos – and she had spent that time alone in her cabin, scared and stressed, hating herself for being such a coward. Garrus had respected her will and been waiting until they had been released from the clinic after the battle of the Citadel. Then he had come to her and demanded to talk and find a way out of the hell they had put themselves into. She had agreed and they had started a civil conversation about the divorce, then passed through the stage of almost apocalyptic fight, and ended up having the most desperate and mind-blowing sex she had ever experienced.

That had been the turning point. Shepard had decided to take the chance and try something that could make her happy. To hell with the consequences. To hell with the high possibility of being court-martialled for the extensive fraternisation with an alien crewman. She had apologised; he had accepted and forgiven. They had rented a flat on the Citadel – something small, not expensive and not standing out; no-one would be able to tell that it had been a house of the famous Saviours of the Citadel. She had chosen to give that relationship a chance and – somewhere between the long talks, cuddles, relaxation, sex and more talks – the word ‘ _divorce’_ had disappeared as though it had never been there.

One day she had left to wipe out the remaining geth, and he had stayed to finish his Spectre training. She had promised to come back soon.

She never had.

And now, two years after she died and a few months after being brought back to life, she had no idea what happened to Garrus. She tried to call him – he did not answer. She tried to write to him – he did not reply. The flat on the Citadel was rented to someone else. Nobody knew where he had gone to – not even Tali and Wrex. Not Anderson, who had acknowledged their marriage, but never accepted it. Even Cerberus was not able to locate him – or at least that was what the Illusive Man told her. Garrus simply vanished.

She did not have anything that would remember her of him – everything had been destroyed along with the old _Normandy_. No personal things, no photograph... no blue tattoo. And it hurt in ways she would not have imagined. Had he felt this way two years ago, when she had been ignoring him? If so, she would never stop admiring him for his forgiveness. Or maybe in his case it had been just blind love. She did not know. The only thing she knew was that she missed him so badly.

But she kept going. That was what she always did.

* * *

So it was the fifth evening Shepard was spending in Afterlife, drowning her bitter memories in alcohol and trying to find the Archangel on Omega. She received his dossier from the Illusive Man only few hours before the scheduled mission of boarding a derelict Reaper. She considered her team to be complete and such unexpected messages from the Man were annoying her immensely. Go get the Veteran. Go get the Master Thief. And now: go get the Archangel. Did she really need a guy that thought so highly of himself that he became a self-proclaimed law-enforcement on this fucking station? Hell, no.

But she needed a tech that could fight. She needed a good sniper and a tactician, and the Archangel was supposed to be all of those. In that case, she could turn a blind eye on his Batman-like inclinations. It also happened that Samara had business on Omega as well, so Shepard decided to reschedule the mission on the Reaper for the unspecified future, and began the big hunt for the Archangel.

The mission turned out to be screwed-up at the very beginning. The Illusive Man, in his generosity, did not care to mention that Archangel had a team of eleven men at his command.

She called the Man to tell him what she thought about his choices of the team-mates for her. He disconnected.

And thus Shepard’s occupation of Afterlife began. She ordered Kasumi and Thane to gather some information as discreetly as they could while she was just sitting in the club, drinking, listening to the people and talking to everyone who wanted to.

It turned out that people were pretty talkative when it came down to the Archangel. Aria called him ‘ _a reckless and idealistic pain in the ass’_. Nobody seemed to know his real name and his nickname was given to him by the inhabitants of Omega. They admired him, someone even literally loved him. Mercenaries, on the other hand, hated him and – according to the information Kasumi managed to find – they were planning an all-out assault on his base. She did o’t know when it was about to happen, but it was surely a good intel which might help her recruit that guy.

If it was only possible to meet him.

Shepard groaned and ordered another drink. Drinks were making Afterlife at least seem a bit nicer.

“You’re getting tense, siha,” she heard an unexpected voice behind her back and almost jumped, startled.

“Don’t scare me like that, unless you want me to put a bullet into your head.”

“My apologies, siha,” Thane bowed and settled himself in a chair beside her. “Miss Goto asked me to tell you that she might have found two persons from Archangel’s team. She’s currently listening to their conversation to determine if she’s right.”

Jane’s indifference vanished in the twinkling of an eye. Laziness of the five previous days were immediately replaced by her soldier alertness, and she was able to be the great Commander Shepard once again, as it was happening every day, on and on, without end.

“Where is she?”

“On the lower level,” Krios answered quietly. “Archangel and his team apparently prefer to avoid Aria’s attention. I’m not surprised.”

“I doubt it helps,” Shepard scowled and finished her drink. “Well, Thane, I suggest we go down there to ensure that Archangel’s people don’t mistake my favourite thief for a bloodthirsty merc.”

“Do you think he will be willing to join us?”

Jane looked in the assassin’s serious eyes and in his solemn posture she noticed a hint of the same uncertainty that was eating her alive.

“I don’t know, Thane,” she let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know.”


	2. Chapter 2

“There they are,” Kasumi announced with a big grin on her face, and pointed at the direction of one of the tables. The thief was waiting for Shepard and Thane near the entrance to the lower section of the club. Shepard hated it even more than the upper one.

“How do you want to play this, siha?” Krios asked quietly, clasping his hands behind his back.

Her mind was racing, trying to come up with a good reason to start a conversation with the salarian she was staring at. He looked far too average than he should have, and she realised that he could once be a spy. Maybe a retired STG agent. Or maybe she was overreacting, because what would the retired agent be doing on Omega?

 _Mordin was here_ , her brain told her. _So why would he be the only one?_

Shit, she never liked such situations. Was it to intimidate someone? Good. To shoot someone? Even better. But when it came down to diplomacy, persuasion and civil talks, she failed.

“Simply and openly, Thane, as always,” she answered finally, noticing the second person Kasumi mentioned, a turian. He was dressed in an old, but still functional light armour, and currently she saw only his back.

“Have you ever done this before?”

She hesitated for a while. “No.”

The turian stiffened suddenly and began to turn around, and...

* * *

_“You cannot trust a barefaced turian,” Garrus told her, sleepily stroking her arm. It was just another of those long talks about their societies and culture. “This is a general rule. Of course there are exceptions, as always. Sometimes a turian doesn’t deserve to be barefaced, sometimes he or she changes after the process. Sometimes it’s just the effect of growing up outside the Hierarchy territory.”_

_He fell silent for a while, but she did not rush him. They had time._

_“Those situations are relatively uncommon, though. So promise me, Jane, that if you ever see a barefaced turian, you’ll be careful.”_

_She smiled and put her hands on both sides of his face. “I’m always careful, Garrus.”_

_“Yeah, right,” he murmured and his hands found their way to her waist, his sleepiness disappearing in the twinkling of an eye. “I worked with you, remember? Do you really expect me to believe in those words?”_

_“You could at least try to show a little good faith.”_

_Mischievous sparks appeared in his blue eyes. “I could try something else.”_

* * *

“What the hell are you looking at?” the barefaced turian female called at Shepard, loud enough to catch the attention of a few other guests. Jane scowled – _why is the Archangel working with a barefaced woman?_ – approached them, and sat in one of two empty chairs standing at their table. The salarian blinked rapidly.

“What the fuck—“

“I suppose you’d prefer not to talk so loud,” Shepard interrupted the turian. The time of playing nice and oblivious was gone. “Unless you want to draw unnecessary attention to yourselves which I’m sure would be bad. Your boss certainly wouldn’t like it.”

The salarian caught the turian’s hand, who apparently wanted to put her pistol on the table. The woman hissed, but raised her hands defensively.

“Would you mind to explain what you mean?” he asked quickly. “And who are you, by the way?”

“Name’s Shepard,” she folded her arms. “That’s all you need to know. And about what I meant...”

She noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye, when Thane took a defensive position just behind her chair. Kasumi, on the other hand, sat in the last empty chair and relaxed visibly, her eyes shining in the shadow of her hood. They both seemed casual, but she knew that they were ready to fight at any moment. She taught them well.

“You meant what?” the turian barked impatiently.

“I need to talk to the Archangel,” Jane said simply and observed their expressions. The salarian shifted uncomfortably and the turian drew her mandibles close to her jaw, a sign of fury and incredulity she – thanks to Garrus – knew how to recognise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the barefaced woman snapped at her.

Shepard grinned and pointed at Kasumi. “See Miss Goto here? Nothing can be hidden from her.”

“I’ve been listening to you talking almost half an hour,” the thief smiled wickedly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, there’s no need to blame yourselves. Better than you failed to protect their treasures and secrets.”

“Boss will kill us,” the salarian sighed heavily.

“No, he won’t,” Jane said as confidently as she could. “Listen, I’m putting a team together to complete a dangerous mission. I received info about your boss. I want to talk to him and see if he’s willing to join me.”

“I’m not sure if he—“

“I don’t care if you’re sure or not. I just want to talk to him. If he doesn’t want join my team, we’ll part ways and won’t meet again.”

The salarian rubbed his neck. “I really don’t know—“

”Just shut up,” the turian growled and Shepard noticed that it was impossible for him to finish his sentences. “She’s lying, she just want to kill the Archangel, like those mercs!”

“Keep shouting, genius, and I’ll be the least of your problems.”

The woman hissed again, but closed her mouth, realising that the admission of being a part of Archangel’s team was not a smart idea in a place overrun with mercenaries and criminals.

“I think I can speak with the boss,” the salarian offered, “and let him decide if he wants to meet you or not.”

Jane turned around to look at Thane, then at Kasumi again. “Will you be able to locate him, even if these two don’t cooperate?”

Goto shrugged. “Now, when we have the lead? Give me five hours.”

“Defences in his hideout can’t be more extensive than those in the Dantius Towers,” Krios added quietly. “So... another half an hour, I believe, in addition to those five Miss Goto would need.”

Shepard nodded and looked in the turian’s eyes, full of hostility and anger... and fear? “As you can see, if I wanted to kill your boss, you wouldn’t stop me. I just can’t have the luxury of waiting. If you don’t take me to him, I’ll find your base on my own. And you better not get into my way.”

There was a moment of heavy silence when the salarian was thinking. She could almost hear the machinery of his brain working.

“Can we trust you?” he asked finally, his tone solemn.

“I can even promise if you want.”

“I trust you, but...” he blinked and looked at the turian woman, “I think it’ll help my friend here believe you.”

Jane glanced at her and searched her memory for a phrase she would understand. “I vow upon the spirits of my ancestors that I don’t intend to cause you – or the Archangel – any harm.”

The turian took a breath through her gritted teeth, and her eyes flashed with anger. Again. “You have no right to say that! It’s not valid!”

_No matter what I say, it’d be bad for you._

“Have you just accused me of intention of breaking my oath, you barefaced scum?”

The turian jolted upright onto her feet and Shepard felt something what could be a very misplaced relief. She would gladly shoot her, no matter what kind of problems would it cause. A prospect of recruiting the Archangel would probably be forever lost, but damn, she would feel better. All the turian had to do was to give her a reason, the slightest shadow of a reason, and she would finally find a way to relieve stress of all those previous hard days.

“Ladies, please!” the salarian caught the turian’s hand once again, while Thane grabbed Shepard’s shoulder and tried to keep her seated. “It’s okay, you made your point and I believe you. I’ll take you to our base... as long as I’m the one driving and you have covered eyes.”

Jane took a few deep breaths and wriggled of Thane’s grasp. He was becoming overprotective towards her, and it was good sometimes, but there were also days when it was annoying her. Today was the day of annoyance, so it seemed.

“Deal,” she said in a steady voice, becoming the great reasonable Commander Shepard once again. Was there even a possibility of escaping that myth which was preceding her? “When can we go?”

The salarian pointed at their holstered weapons and stood up. “Right now, if you’re ready.”

“Good,” she nodded – _no more waiting, let’s get this over with_ – and activated her radio. “EDI?”

“ _Yes, Shepard?”_

“Can you determine my location?”

“ _Your cybernetic implants emit the characteristic energy signature which allows me to—“_

“Yes or no, EDI?”

“ _Yes,”_ the AI somehow managed to sound offended. Shepard had stopped caring about her – _its,_ _Jane,_ its, _EDI’s not a living person_ – well-being a long time ago, and neither she cared now.

“Good. I’m going to call every hour. If the radio contact is delayed over a half an hour, tell the team to suit up and send them to the place I’ll be in.”

“ _Acknowledged. Anything else, Commander?”_

Thank all the turian spirits that at least the AI was not confrontational – unlike Miranda Lawson. “That’ll be all, EDI.”

_“Logging you out, Shepard.”_

Jane disconnected and looked at the salarian, who was staring at her, seemingly lost in thoughts. She waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged and gestured towards the exit. “Precautions you’re taking are understandable. They remind me of my boss.”

She didn’t bother to comment.

“So... can we go now?”

Shepard glanced at Thane and Kasumi; they both nodded. “Sure. Lead the way.”

* * *

The turian female’s name turned out to be ‘Livia’, from what Shepard heard during the ride. It was a short one – did not even last twenty minutes – but the salarian and the turian managed to have four quarrels. The first one was understandably about their passengers, the next ones about everything that could possibly be a subject of arguments, including the Archangel’s possible mood. Livia would not believe how useful it was for Shepard to hear their conversations, for she needed every bit of information about the Archangel.

From what she understood, there was a high possibility that the guy was a turian, and that annoyed her immensely. Recruiting a turian sniper with good tech skills seemed like a betrayal of Garrus, but she had no choice. Garrus did not contact her despite her efforts, and even though it had caused her distress at first, now she was getting more and more angry. Even if he did not believe, even if he thought that the messages she was sending were spam or just stupid jokes, why could he simply not check it just to make sure?

Jane did not want to think about the possibility that he might be dead. No. She closed the door of her mind before that thought.

“Stupid turian,” she muttered under her breath. The black fabric covering her eyes cut her out and she focused just on the sounds she was hearing. Unsurprisingly, it was another heated argument between Livia and the salarian. This time about how the Archangel surely would not abandon his team for some crazy human.

The affection with which Livia was talking about the Archangel reminded Jane about the way Garrus had respected and regarded her. In time, Livia’s attitude could shift into that turian love, boundless and selfless. Some part of her envied the turian woman the possibility of that love, because her own life was hollow without it. And without Garrus.

And she hated herself for that, because that weakness could interfere with her effectiveness. What was interfering with her effectiveness, could kill her. She had no intention of dying again.

Her mind was brought back to reality, when the salarian stopped the car. “You can uncover your eyes now, yes.”

“What’s our plan, siha?” Thane asked when they got out of the cab.

“We go in,” she shrugged, “talk to the guy and leave with or without him. I don’t expect any fire fight.”

Livia scowled at her words, but did not comment and began her way towards one of the buildings in the area that looked like an abandoned apartment district, with closed shops, broken windows, and unused bridges. Shepard could not see any of the inhabitants, except for homeless beggars of all races, and the vorcha, ever-present on Omega. It was an ideal place for a hideout, she had to admit that.

“Please, follow me,” the salarian inclined his head and strolled after the turian. He passed through the bridge and entered the big building on the other side. It could once be a block of flats or a supermarket, Shepard could not determine. She did not spend enough time on Omega to recognise its architecture, and she was damn happy about that.

The small hall was empty, but the door to the living room was open so the echo of talks and laughter was clearly audible. For the first time, just because of that echo, Jane was struck by the impossibility of recruiting the Archangel. Those people trusted him, believed in him. Had she been in his shoes, would she have left them? Would she leave her own team in such a situation?

Hell, no.

She was on the verge of telling Thane and Kasumi to turn back and return to the ship, but the salarian stopped at the threshold and gestured towards the inside. “Please, come in.”

Shepard forced herself to smile when she followed him into the main area. She found herself in something what was a living room, a training room and a kitchen at the same time. There were also six people inside it, including angry Livia and now the salarian – an asari indifferently watching some vid on her PDA, two humans playing cards at the kitchen table, and a...

“ _You!_ ” a batarian rose to his feet, a chair he was sitting in fell onto the floor with a loud noise. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Jane drew her pistol at the sight of his trembling hands reaching to his own gun, her reaction fast as a lightning. Humans’ jaws dropped, Livia smirked, and the salarian hastily settled himself between his companion and their guest.

“Taelo, get out of my way!” the batarian barked at him. “I have to—“

“She’s here to talk with the boss, Hinh,” the salarian interrupted him. “I brought her, it’s okay.”

“You don’t understand,” the batarian, Hinh, snapped at him. “Do you know who she is? Do you know what she’s done?!”

The room fell silent. Shepard was aiming at the batarian, he was aiming at her, and no one cared that Taelo was standing between them. Thane and Kasumi were just waiting patiently for the results of the conflict, their weapons holstered.

Jane scowled, staring at Hinh. This whole mission was screwed up, a lot, so why was she surprised that it got even worse? First, the Archangel’s team, and now the batarian...

 _Why the hell is this guy working with a batarian scumbag? ‘Cheaper labour’,_ _as Zaeed said?_

“What are you talking about?” Livia asked, obviously immensely interested in this matter.

“It’s Jane Shepard, the Butcher of Torfan!” Hinh yelled, the pistol quivered in his tight grip. “She killed dozens of innocent batarians seven years ago. My brother was among them!”

_Oh, that’s just great._

“Jane Shepard?” one of the humans repeated, realisation dawning in his eyes. “ _The_ Commander Jane Shepard?”

“Not my problem that your brother was a fucking slaver,” Jane growled, ignoring the man’s comment. She did not want to meet another fan right now. Or ever again, to be honest. “You think they were innocent? That’s one hell of an interesting opinion, considering what your people did on Mindoir and Elysium.”

“Don’t try to justify y—“

“I’m here to meet the Archangel,” she cut him in the middle of the word, “so shut up and don’t try my patience.”

“So you’re a murderer,” Livia hissed with a satisfaction. Her hand was dangerously close to her pistol, and Shepard was determined to shoot her in the head at the first suspicious move.

“No, I’m... I _was_ a soldier. And I’m also a batarian equivalent of a bogeyman, which I know means nothing to you, but it doesn’t matter. The point is: I did my duty. Are you still turian enough to understand the concept of duty, you barefaced bitch?”

Livia growled, hesitated for a moment – _just give me a reason_ – but took a step back and shook her head. Shepard did not know if it was a sign of resignation, disbelief, or maybe denial, but it did not matter. What mattered was that the turian woman decided not to take part in the confrontation. It was probably a good thing, for killing one of the Archangel’s people – maybe even his mate, if Jane read Livia correctly – would not help her convince the Archangel himself to join her mission.

After a while of consideration and heavy silence, Hinh holstered his weapon and showed probably all of his teeth in an evil grin. “Talk with the boss as long as you want if he agrees to it. Because once you two are done, I’m gonna kill you and even the Archangel won’t be able to help you.”

“Better than you were trying to kill me and failed,” she shrugged, thinking about that one moment on Virmire when Saren had wanted to strangle her. About Sovereign’s wreckage crushing the bones in her right leg, while the Council chamber had been burning around her. And about suffocating to death in the vacuum of space above Alchera, when the _Normandy_ had been shredded to pieces by the Collectors. “So don’t think you’ll succeed, unless you want to end like those fuckers on Torfan.”

“Quiet down there!” a sudden cry from above finally shut the batarian up. “We’re trying to sleep here!”

A distinctive flanging in that voice gave an impression that it was an old turian speaking. Shepard hoped it wasn’t the Archangel, because the last person she needed was an old turian nursing the grudges of the First Contact War.

“Septimus!” Taelo shouted, apparently not caring at all about the old turian’s demands. “Wake up the boss and tell him to come here!”

Jane gave a discreet sigh of relief. She would not stomach an old turian who was not Lorik Qui’in or Lilihierax. Then a part of her mind told her than even a young turian could be a nationalist and a xenophobe, but she crushed that voice. Or maybe the truth was that she did not want any other turian than Garrus.

She tilted her head up, when she heard footsteps. It was not a turian, but a middle-aged human male.

“The Archangel’s not here,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “What’s go—oh my god.”

Shepard’s eyebrow quirked upwards, when she noticed a shock on the man’s face. The guy quickly composed himself and ran to the stairs and down, to shake her hand.

“Commander Shepard,” he mumbled, “I thou—heard you’re... Uhm... It’s... it’s an honour. What can I do for you?”

“I’m putting a team together,” she announced once again, thanking all the turian spirits that she did not have to hear ‘ _I thought you’re dead’_ one more time, “and I received the information that the Archangel might be an asset to it. So I want to talk to him and see if he’s willing to join me.”

He gave her a weird look. “Like I said, the Archangel’s not here. He left to help one of our people. I assume you’d like to wait for him?”

Jane sighed and shrugged. “I’m already here, so I can wait. Do you know, Mr...”

“Butler,” he said hastily. “Mark Butler.”

“Do you know, Mr Butler, how long will it take?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. Haven’t you told him you’ll be here?”

She blinked, surprised. A quick glance at Kasumi and Thane told her they were just as astonished. “Five days ago I didn’t even know about his existence. Exactly how was I supposed to contact him?”

Now was Butler’s time to blink rapidly. “I... You... Oh shit. I just thought that whoever gave you the intel, also told you how to contact our boss.”

“No,” she shook her head. “That fucking son of a bitch kept that info for himself, just like the real name of your boss and the fact that he has his own team.”

Butler cleared his throat, obviously stunned, but she did not care to explain.

“No one knows boss’ real name,” one of the humans sitting at the table said sheepishly. “Except for Mark and Sidonis, that turian in need of boss’ help.”

“That’s pretty insane, don’t you think?” Jane suggested, but the man just shrugged. She scowled, realising that it could also be a sign of the Archangel’s caution. The less people knew about his identity, the smallest was a possibility of mercs using that against him.

Damn, he could be good.

“Please, Commander, follow me,” Butler pointed at the stairs. “You can wait comfortably in the bedroom.”

“Very well, Mr Butler. Kasumi, Thane, let’s go.”

She did not care about hostile glares Livia were shooting at her, and went with Mark upstairs. The bedroom turned out to be one big room with six bunk beds. There were two humans having a nap, and that grumbling old turian who wanted to sleep. She expected commentaries about her presence here, but the turian just looked at her weapons and did not say a word.

“As soon as the Archangel’s back, I’ll tell him you wait here,” Butler promised and saluted, an unexpected, but very expressive gesture.

“Butler?”

“Yes?”

“Wake up your people, arm them and keep them ready.”

“Why?” Mark asked, clearly surprised.

“When we were looking for your boss, we’ve overheard mercs’ decision about an assault on your base,” Shepard revealed. The man turned pale. “We don’t know _when_ they’re going to attack, but it’ll happen soon. So you better get ready.”

* * *

Commander Shepard was all for the galaxy, her actions, her efforts, her fights. Jane, on the other hand, had no time for herself and maybe that was good, because there was also no one to have time for. She was coming back to her cabin after the missions and was staring at the empty walls or the empty bed, until slumber was overpowering her senses and sending her into the arms of sweet oblivion – just to the next morning, when everything was happening anew. She had spent alone so many years, but that one month after the battle of the Citadel – that one month with Garrus – had destroyed her ability to enjoy the time without other persons. Being alone now meant wondering and thinking – and waiting meant the same.

True, there were many people _around_ her, even aboard the _Normandy_ , but at the same time there were no people _with_ her. Being lonely among the crowds and keeping her Commander face was getting more and more difficult. She was just getting tired. Probably death had something to do with it.

Hence she hated waiting. It was a pointless waste of time, always, and it was guiding her thoughts in the direction she did not want them to go. Thus she was watching the Archangel’s team at first. They seemed like an unusual bunch of strangers, but they knew their job. She was sure about this after seeing them preparing for a hypothetical assault. It was understandable that the mercs would attack when the group was lacking their boss’ support – without him, their tactics sucked.

“Our winged recruit won’t leave them,” Kasumi whispered, looking at the ground floor as well. “They may be good at fighting, but he’s the thinker here. A group without the thinker won’t last long.”

“Our mission isn’t going to last long now,” Shepard answered with the certainty she did not feel at all. “All we have left is Samara’s unfinished business. Then we’re heading straight to that dead Reaper and after that... Well, we’re getting more fame by being the first ones who successfully used the Omega 4 relay and came back.”

 _The question is: what are we going to do_ after _that?_

“So you think he’ll join because now it’ll be relatively short.”

 _I don’t think he’ll join, Kasumi_ , she thought, but did not say it aloud. She had to care about the morale of her team.

“I think he’ll join because he likes to help people. To save them. And our mission includes _a lot_ of saving.”

Was there even an end of saving? Shepard supposed it was – when either she, either the Reapers were dead. Life had taught her that the former was more possible.

“I’m going to have a nap,” Kasumi announced. “Do the same, Shep. They’ll wake us when our little angel’s back.”

Jane smiled at her favourite thief. “I think I’ll wait.”

So she was waiting, despite the racing thoughts. One hour changed into three, and she got tired of pacing around the bedroom. The Archangel’s team apparently got tired of waiting as well, because she noticed some of them falling asleep in one chair or another, fully armoured and armed. And when the third hour turned into the fourth, Shepard finally sat on a bed and let her eyes close, long past the stage of wondering what the hell was taking the Archangel so long.

Then the missiles came and started crushing everything on their way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes in this chapter come from "Have You Ever Seen The Rain?" by Creedence Clearwater Revival and "Mr White" by Antimatter.

Memory was a strange thing. It tended to activate its wicked plans at the worst times – it flooded your mind with images of loss when you needed a consolation, or with images of joy when you were supposed to focus on a difficult or unpleasant task. And it was like a living being, not wanting to leave, not wanting to obey. But sometimes it was also capable of choosing an image in accordance with a feeling – it usually was a bad image in addition to a bad feeling.

Shepard’s memory chose to grant her the image of being crushed under Sovereign’s wreckage. She was buried alive once again, her head hurting because of the concussion caused by the wound which was still bleeding, her chest heave probably because of the broken ribs. What she heard was a combination of a sick ringing, alarms and a sound of fire burning definitely too close to her – but that was not the worst thing.

She was half-blinded by pain biting at her right leg, she could practically _feel_ all the pieces her bones were broken into. She tried to get out from under the rubble, but it turned out to be impossible.

Those bones had healed badly, but she no longer limped. As a matter of fact, she no longer had bones in that leg, only synthetic replacements and cybernetic implants. Although now – when part of the ceiling immobilised her – unreal pain sank its teeth in her leg, as if she travelled back in time to that moment on the Citadel. She knew it was just her imagination, she knew that Sovereign was no more, the Citadel Tower was rebuilt, and the rubble was covering only her legs – and thanks to her shields and armour it did not do any damage – but it did not convince her mind.

_Someone told me long ago..._

She did not hear alarms, nor screams – if there were any. She did not know where Thane or Kasumi were – she did not remember them at that precise moment. Outside world was somewhere behind a thick, black curtain – but maybe there was no world at all. There she was with her pain alone, and that pain was not even real.

_...there’s a calm before the storm._

Sometimes making a move was just so difficult.

* * *

_She heard a knocking at the door, but did not bother to get up and open it. Not that she did not want to – she just could not . And yet she did not want to acknowledge that maybe she was wrong._

_Maybe she really needed a rehabilitation._

_The knocking repeated, and she grunted. She usually welcomed uninvited or unwanted guests with a drawn pistol – or a rifle – suggestive for her eagerness to shoot something – or someone. Now, though, she would not convince anyone of being dangerous. Not even a stupid volus._

_“Coming!” she yelled, when there was another knocking. Someone was_ really _persistent, and damn if she was in a mood for talking._

 _Her quarters on the_ Normandy _were not big, but it took her almost a minute to rise onto her feet and hobble to the door. She gritted her teeth when she saw Garrus standing on the other side, although she fully expected him to come. If only the circumstances had been different..._

_“By the spirits, what happened to you?” he stuttered, seemingly frightened._

_“I broke my nose, isn’t that obvious?” she growled and folded her arms. “What do you want?”_

_“We need to talk.”_

_She felt a pang of fear, but she buried it deep and covered with defiance. “It’s not a good time.”_

_“For you it never is,” Garrus tilted his head. Shit, he was damn right. “I’m not going anywhere until we talk and resolve... our problem.”_

_‘Resolving’_ _meant a decision. Both possible decisions were wrong in one way or another. There were not many times when she was reluctant to do something, but this was one of them. She wanted the thing she could not have._

_“Come in,” she said at last and tried to move aside. Her leg had other plans, though, and flooded her with a burning pain, blinding her and making her breathless. She wanted to catch something, but failed and just braced herself for another fall this day._

_She did not. Garrus’ strong arms folded around her, holding her and preventing from falling. She grabbed the collar of his armour, instinctively, wanting to find something to get hold of._

_He was perfect to hold on to. To feel safe._

_“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair. She reluctantly loosened her desperate grip and even more hesitantly put the weight of her body on the right leg. It hurt, but at least she could stand on her feet._

_“C’mon, let’s sit down,” he said and wrapped one arm around her waist to support her. For once she did not chase him away, but leant against his side, taking the feeling of safety and happiness into her soul, the feeling of how it could be if it was only possible. It hurt more than her leg._

_“What happened?” Garrus asked, when he helped her sit and went to the small bathroom of her cabin to find something to clean her face and shirt._

_She hated feeling helpless._

_“I was running on the treadmill and my leg didn’t cooperate.”_

_He gave her a rag soaked in a cold water and she immediately put it onto her nose. It was a true paradise._

_“I’ve been looking for you at the clinic,” his voice broke the silence once again. “They told me you’d requested to be discharged without rehabilitation. It’s a bad idea, Jane.”_

_She did not correct him, for he was calling her by her name since that horrid day they had gotten married. Of course he was using ‘Shepard’ in front of the crew or the team, but when a private conversation occurred, he never called her like that. She got used to it, but she never showed him how much she actually liked it._

_She never showed him his interest was mutual._

_“I’m on active duty, remember?” she said. “I don’t have time for rehabilitation.”_

_“So you’re running on the treadmill hoping your leg won’t give way beneath you, am I right?”_

_“I’m running on the treadmill, because they pumped a tank of medi-gel into me and told me that the bones in my leg were healed.”_

_“But it hurts you,” he stated the obvious. “That means it’s not healed. Or you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t take it easy.”_

_“They’d put me on the treadmill anyway,” she shrugged. “So I’m doing my own rehabilitation. Faster than they’d do it.”_

_Garrus sighed and poked lightly her leg. She took a breath through gritted teeth, for it was impossible not to touch one bruise or another._

_“Either you’ll take it easy,” he said, apparently satisfied with her reaction, “or I’ll tie you to your bed, because it’s obvious you need first the rest, then the rehabilitation.”_

_She shot him an icy glare, the one that usually made people mumble and eventually run away. It did not make any effect on him. He seemed not be scared of her at all, and she did not know if it was annoying, or maybe adorable._

_“You don’t have to play a leader all the time, Jane,” Garrus said quietly, his voice almost pleading. “You should rest now, because I don’t think you want to fall in the middle of the battle. And it will happen if you don’t take care of this leg.”_

_She shifted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He had a point and she hated it, when someone was right while she was wrong._

_“Let’s take it over with, okay?” she suggested. “That’s why you’re here, after all.”_

_He cleared his throat and sat on the bed beside her. “What do you think we should do?”_

What was the text of that old song?, _she thought, desperately struggling to find words._ ‘I’m supposed to talk to you, don’t even know where to start...’

_“I think...” she sighed, at that moment not feeling like the great Commander Shepard at all. At that moment she felt just like a woman lost in her life. “I think we should... divorce.”_

* * *

“Shep, are you okay?” she heard Kasumi speaking near the rubble.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just can’t move,” she answered, trying to free her leg and failing. There were gunfire and screams somewhere in the background, but she could not tell who was winning.

“Lie still, siha” Thane’s characteristic voice brought her thoughts back to the situation at hand. Seconds later she saw more than felt the rubble being hovered up by Krios using his biotics. Jane crawled away as quickly as she could, knowing that the drell was not even remotely as biotically strong as Jack or Samara.

Her instinct was right – the rubble was back on the floor even before she managed to stand up. But when she did it, she was the great Commander Shepard again, with no apparent weaknesses.

“What’s the situation?” she asked, trying not to think about her leg which was completely okay, but hurt nevertheless.

“Mercenaries are trying to get here, but they haven’t managed to succeed yet,” Thane reported coldly, apparently unaffected by the fact that they were under attack in a half-ruined building. “However, I assume we should go down and help the Archangel’s team, because it seems that he may find his people dead after his return. Unless, of course, it is your goal and you think it’ll make him more eager to join your cause.”

“By the spirits, Thane, your sense of humour is really weird sometimes,” Shepard scowled and drew her assault rifle. “Let’s go, people, and play the cavalry.”

“What about the Archangel’s team?” Kasumi asked quietly.

“Don’t throw your life away in their defence. You’re more valuable to me than any turian Batman or a friend of his, no matter if it’s possible to recruit him or not.”

* * *

They were good – if a few moments of fight were any indication. Their actions were coordinated – there was no moment when the mercs trying to cross the bridge were not under fire or biotic powers. The group was also well-equipped –she noticed the military-grade weapons and good upgrades.

Their tactics sucked, though, and Shepard realised that they relied on their boss to come up with a plan. Additionally, they seemed nervous or maybe worried – probably because the Archangel was yet to return. She understood – without him, they were like a body with no head.

“Commander!” Butler shouted as soon as he noticed her on the stairs. “Over here!”

She ran to the couch he was hiding behind, and crouched beside him. Kasumi and Thane took cover on the other side of the room.

“What’s the plan?”

“We’ll try to survive,” Butler shrugged. “What else can we do?”

“Can you collapse the bridge?” she asked, having a vivid vision of the mercenaries falling down and down, towards their deaths, screaming and praying for some king of a mystical salvation.

“No, there’s no explosives beneath it. There’s also insufficient amount of them in the base.”

“Then we’re doing this the hard way” Jane grinned, definitely eager to turn her vision into life. She threw a quick glance around the room, looking for the asari. She noticed her near the bridge, apparently gathering her strength for another shockwave. She was not a matriarch, but she was strong.

Will do.

She checked if her shields were fully recharged, then sprinted across the room and hid behind the wall, just in time to prevent the asari from unleashing her biotics.

“What’s your name?!” she shouted, wanting to be heard above the noise caused by the guns.

“Erash T’Eyan,” the asari answered impatiently. “What do you want? I’m busy, in case you didn’t notice.”

“ _’Erash’_?” Shepard repeated incredulously. “Is that even an asari name?”

“My father was a batarian,” she growled, obviously annoyed.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said, a stupid impulse caused by her hatred towards the batarians. “Listen to me carefully. I need you to collapse the bridge.”

The asari’s eyes widened. “You want me to do _what_?!”

“Use your biotics to destroy the bridge. If my matriarch was here, she would do it. But she stayed on my ship, so it’s up to you.”

Erash glanced at the bridge and looked at Shepard again. “It will take time.”

“Then better start working,” she suggested. “I’ll cover you, so don’t worry about getting shot.”

“You’re as crazy as the Archangel is.”

“Maybe he’s my fan then,” Jane laughed without any joy, and checked the amount of her thermal clips. It should be enough.

It had to be.

* * *

It took the asari almost fifteen minutes to damage the bridge enough to make its construction unstable. The mercenaries did not even notice that she focused her biotics on something else than them. Shepard would be amazed by their stupidity if only her thinking process was not reduced to pure instinct of survival. Her actions were automatic – lean out of cover, kill two or three mercs, hide behind the wall to let the shields reload, and begin everything again, doing the thing she did best.

Being the perfect soldier.

From the earliest years of her life she had known she was supposed to continue family’s tradition and join the Alliance. The only daughter of two Alliance soldier had not really had many other options. She had not had a real house. She had not known the life outside the military. The military _had been_ her life – her greatest achievement and her biggest curse.

Sometimes she wished it had been different.

“ _Shepard?_ ”

“EDI, I’m kind of busy right now,” she snapped at the AI through her radio.

“ _I have detected a gunship heading your way,_ ” EDI explained quickly. “ _I advise caution._ ”

“Understood,” Jane answered and looked at the asari. “You better hurry with that bridge.”

She stood up and ran to the main room, seeing how scattered the Archangel’s people were. “Regroup! A gunship’s coming, regroup and take cover!”

Those who heard her, obeyed. Those who did not, noticed their comrades moving and did the same. The batarian did not, but she did not care about him. He could get shot by a gunship for all she cared.

“Shep! Hey, Shep!” Kasumi shouted and waved her hands to get Shepard’s attention. She threw a glance at the Archangel’s people and seeing them hidden, she ran again to the wall near the bridge. Mercs had to receive the information about incoming backup, because they stopped firing.

“What is it?” she asked, realising that Thane joined the asari in her efforts to destroy the bridge. Good, he did not need orders to do clever things.

“I’ve got an idea,” Goto said, her smile was as big as the one on the face of a child seeing a really big cake. “Actually, it’s an old idea, but it’s checked and seems to work well.”

“Kasumi, please.”

“I’ll do to this gunship what I did to Hock’s one.”

Shepard blinked a few times. “On the bridge that is going to be destroyed? Are you insane?!”

“I’ll be done before Thane and this little blue sweetheart are finished. Don’t you hear it?”

She did – the characteristic sound of a gunship’s engines, flying somewhere between the buildings of Omega. Wasting time on shooting at it to take its shields down would probably be a bad idea, so if the thief was sure about the plan...

“Just be careful, Kasumi. We still have the mission to accomplish.”

“Don’t worry, Shep,” Goto’s grin widened. “It isn’t the first time I’m doing this.”

“And which is it?” Jane asked, suddenly suspicious.

“The second, actually.”

Before she could open her mouth to yell at her subordinate, the thief sprinted towards the stairs to the first floor, probably to be able to get to the roof of the building. And people were saying that her, Jane’s, ideas were crazy.

“Shall I continue?” the asari asked indifferently, but Shepard saw curiosity in her eyes. She smiled to herself. Kasumi was about to give them all a show they had never seen before. Not even under the Archangel’s reckless leadership.

“Hold on,” she said and holstered her assault rifle, taking the Particle Beam instead. “Gather your strength, because as soon as we’re done with the gunship the mercs will get pissed.”

“A gunship almost killed the Archangel some time ago,” Erash decided to enlighten her.

So maybe he was not as good as they told her.

“Then watch and learn how the true professionals handle situations such as this.”

* * *

There was something mystical in the fight, something almost sexual in a way that her finger was on the trigger – for one moment she was a lifegiver and a deathbringer, a master, a goddess of fight. Who was to live and who was to die – those were all her choices, and hers alone.

Sometimes Shepard thought she was addicted to this.

The Particle Beam in her hands, her eyes closed, breath steady – she was indeed a battlemaster worth of this title. Maybe that was why people followed her lead.

Maybe that was what drew the certain turian to her.

There was a sudden burst of gunfire, but she did not look in that direction. She was waiting for Kasumi to tell her they could begin. Everything else could wait. Everything else had to wait.

“ _Gunship in sight,_ ” Goto announced, Jane’s radio relayed the words as clearly as though the thief stood right beside her. “ _Get ready, Shep. Gunship in my reach in five, four, three, two... one. I’m jumping. Let’s rock!_ ”

She left her cover just in time to see Kasumi landing on the gunship’s cockpit. The pilot sharply jerked the vehicle to the right, then to the left, but how Goto managed not to fall was beyond Shepard’s imagination. An orange light from the thief’s omni-tool told her it was time for her part. She raised the Particle Beam – it did not have the sights, so she had to rely on her Kuwashii Visor she bought after finding the M-98 Widow.

It had its uses, but she was not as addicted to it as Garrus had been to his own.

She saw a glimpse of something of cobalt blue colour out of the corner of her eye, but did not waste time on checking it – the familiar electrical charge of overloading shields caught her attention more than anything.

The gunship descended uncontrollably, tossing Kasumi from side to side. The pilot apparently wanted to get rid of her.

“Goto, jump!” Shepard yelled, because there was no way in hell she would open fire with the thief still on the gunship. The Japanese woman glanced at the bridge, then loosened her iron-like grip and made one last effort to throw herself through the air. Jane stiffened, ready to drop the Particle Beam and catch Kasumi, but she somehow succeeded in landing on the bridge.

“I think it was the last time I played around with the gunship,” she said, her voice unsteady and face pale.

Shepard did not listen, she focused on the vehicle. She had bad feelings, considering that the pilot could not regain the control of the helm and did not even have time to shoot. Kasumi’s overload had to damage some of the systems, there was no other explanation.

And there was only one Joker in this galaxy, no other pilot could perform miracles.

“Back to the building, _now_!” she screamed as loudly as she could, realising that there was no way the gunship could be pulled up in the air again.

“Uhm, Shep? Is that a merc, or...”

Jane glanced at the other side of the bridge, only to see a turian dressed in a heavy armour. It was cobalt blue, like a sky in the middle of the summer, with no clouds on it and the sun being high.

So that was why there was no gunfire for some time.

As she watched him, he shot twice a body lying on the floor – it seemed like he was checking if the merc was dead – and then started running towards the base. Good thing he did not stop to watch how extensive the damage of his hideout was.

“Go, Kasumi!” Shepard ordered her and holstered her weapon. There was going to be no need of using it. “I’ll make sure he survives.”

“I’ll tell the asari to get ready to make you both fly like birds.”

Goto sprinted to the building and Jane followed her, but slowly, constantly glancing at the Archangel – at least she assumed it was him. He was running at first, then slowed down as he saw her and almost stopped a few metres in front of her.

“Run, you idiot!” she yelled, extending her hand and pointing at the gunship. “This thing’s gonna crush into the bridge!”

She could not see his face because of the helmet, but he shook his head and did what she wanted.

All too late.

The time slowed as the adrenaline kicked in. Her vision became sharper, her reactions faster. She saw a merc jumping out of the gunship in a futile attempt to escape his death. She saw the gunship descending and hitting the bridge – its weakened structure did not withstand the impact and collapsed. She saw fragments of stones and metal flying in every direction.

And she saw the Archangel jumping forward to catch what was left of the bridge near the building.

Shepard immediately threw herself onto the floor and caught his wrists. If she did not have her implants, he would fall. But she was stronger now, and faster, and although the turian was heavy as hell, she managed to hold him when the bridge finally disappeared completely and became only a memory.

She saw a reflection of her face in his helmet, just above the scorched and broken collar. Sweat and dirt were on her face, and bruises. Red-glowing eyes and scars, still not healed.

She had to rest, really. But now was not the time for this. Now...

“Archangel, I presume?” she gave him a falsely wicked smile, holding his wrists tightly. She tried not to think about the fact that his weight could cause her hands to give way and them both to fall. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Commander Shepard and this is my favourite way of recruiting people to my team.”


	4. Chapter 4

“But... you’re dead.”

His words were strained, stuttered, mumbled even. Shepard could not see his face, obscured by the helmet, but she had a feeling that his eyes were transfixed on her, drinking in her features, her scars, her glowing, red, cybernetic eyes.

“In that case a ghost’s saving your heavy turian ass,” she said, watching him because she was unable to turn her head in any other direction. “Do you think it’s possible?”

He did not answer, did not even move, knowing that they could fall down at any moment. The situation they found themselves in was a true stalemate. Jane’s arms were all right for now, but she suspected it was going to change, and soon. Even her implants could not let her hold him like that too long.

“I wa—I saw your memorial service,” he told her, quietly, hesitantly.

 _Was he about to say ‘I was’ or ‘I watched’?_ , she thought, silently cursing his helmet. Helmets were making one’s voice mechanical, and the voice was always one of the main characteristics she relied on to judge people. She also could not see if he was barefaced.

Yes, maybe she was prejudiced against the barefaced turians, but she had her reasons. Good reasons. Saren had been barefaced after all.

“Well, well,” she said slowly. “I didn’t know you’re such an important person that you were invited to my memorial service.”

He must have sensed the irony in her words, because he gave a short, low growl of anger. Oh, she was _so_ familiar with the turians’ angry growls.

“Everybody saw it, the extranet exists after all,” he snapped at her and something in his voice alerted her. Maybe it was a glimpse of a true sound of his voice, which somehow survived the speaker of his helmet, or maybe it was the way he spoke those words. Whatever it was, it slipped through her fingers – just like the reason why it alerted her in the first place.

“The most popular vid of the week, huh?”

“Of the month, I’d say,” he specified with a clearly audible disgust. “Fucking jackals.”

“Touchy subject, I see,” she grinned. “Oh my, I’m flattered. I really am.”

“It’s not about you, it’s this whole situation that’s crazy.”

It felt like the whole universe was crazy, and sometimes she did not even expect it to be any other way. “Like everything about me. Like myself too, probably.”

“Oh, that is widely known.”

She scowled and felt a brief, but strong urge to let him fall. Stress, nerves and lack of rest were taking their toll on her composure, and that could cause her only more problems. She did not need that.

“You should’ve said—“

“Boss? Boss!”

Livia’s voice almost physically hurt Shepard’s ears. The turian woman, Taelo and Butler ran to her, when they apparently finally realised that she was not lying on the floor just for recreation. How brilliant of them.

“Are you all right?” the salarian asked quickly, almost as quickly as Mordin would. That similarity made Jane a bit calmer.

“I’m fine, Mierin,” the Archangel said calmly, as if he was sitting in a comfortable armchair. “Tell me, is Sidonis here?”

“No,” Butler answered, and it was everything Jane needed to know about the situation. “We thought he’d be coming back with you.”

“Charming,” she gave a short, bitter laugh. “I hate traitors almost as much as I hate the batarians. And the Collectors. Probably more than the batarians, but less than the Collectors.”

“So you don’t hate the Reapers anymore?” the Archangel growled, and she almost dropped him. He should not have known about the Reapers.

He was not _supposed_ to know about the Reapers.

Of course, there were still rumours caused by a few interviews she had given two years ago, but the Council had dismissed all of them as soon as she had... become indisposed. A handful of people knew the truth, but no-one would talk about it. Especially not to a turian vigilante living on the biggest shithole of the galaxy.

So where and how did he find out about this?

“What are the Reapers?” Livia asked suspiciously, and Shepard regretted that she could not punch Melanis right into the face. Just to feel better.

“It’s classified, Spectre’s business,” she said instead. “Can we finish this conversation once you help me haul your precious boss onto the floor? I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold him like that. I’m not entirely a machine yet.”

“What do you suggest, Commander?” Butler asked, and she needed a moment to realise that he addressed her, not his boss.

This was not going to make things easier.

“I need your krogan, he’s the strongest one here. Or the asari to make this little angel fly.”

“Boss?” Taelo wanted to know the opinion of the person in question. At least him.

“Call Krul,” the Archangel ordered with a sigh. “I prefer not to fly.”

Shepard recalled those few moments when a random asari threw her onto the wall during one mission or another. Yeah, she would choose the krogan too.

* * *

_“So, how’s out there in the Terminus?”_

_She did not answer right away, just sitting on the floor and cupping a mug of hot coffee in her hands. “It sucks,” she said at last. “Cold, dark and completely empty. Nothing really new, huh?”_

_Garrus chuckled and the comm system relayed it perfectly. They did not have enough money – even on her Spectre’s salary – to install the newest version of communication software in their flat, so she could only hear his voice without the holographic projection. As a matter of fact it was better this way – with the lights out and the warm mug in her hands she could pretend that the warmth radiating through her palms was caused by his hands._

_Silly attitude, but comforting._

_“Do you know when you’re coming back?”_

_She groaned and looked at the coffee in her mug, as though it could foretell the future and reveal the answer to her. “Unless the Council decides to send us on another wild goose chase, we’ll be back next Friday.”_

_“You think they want to do this, don’t you?”_

_“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve got the feeling that they’d be thrilled to get rid of me. You see, there’s no sign of geth activity in this cluster. Not at all. No hidden pockets of resistance, no dropships waiting to destroy a fucking little settlement. They just wanted me gone from the Citadel, hoping that maybe I’ll die in the Terminus Systems and thus stop asking what they plan to do about the Reapers.”_

_“That bad?”_

_“We’re running out of supplies, and the crew’s getting more stressed each day,” she admitted. She could admit it to him. There was no one else she could really reveal it to. “I think that they’re on edge of a cabin fever.”_

_“But you’re coming back, so that won’t be an issue, right?”_

_It was right, but at the same time she had a nagging feeling that this period of calm was leading to something very bad, very soon. As a practical woman, she did not care about it, intending to face the problem when it appeared, not earlier. It was unsettling, though, unsettling enough to worry her._

_“If the Council decides to give me another mission, I’ll take a leave,” she mused. “Hell, I deserve that.”_

_“You shouldn’t have accepted this mission. I told you so.”_

_She smirked. How many times did he, actually? “Once I’m back, we should go on holiday. Spend some time together. What do you think?”_

_Garrus laughed heartily. “How could I refuse the prospect of Mr and Mrs Vakarian on holiday? Where do you want to go?”_

_Damn, she still could not get used to being ‘Shepard-Vakarian’ now. “Well, your mother and sister seem to tolerate me, so we can go to Palaven.”_

_“You wouldn’t be able to stay on Palaven too long,” his voice became serious. “But if you want to, we can take Mom and Sol, and visit another warm planet with big ocean and nice beaches. They_ like _you, by the way, not only tolerate you. I don’t know why you don’t believe me.”_

_“You can say this only to make me feel better. Unless your—“_

_A soft sound of opening door cut in on her words. She turned her head and saw Pressly standing at the threshold, only a dark figure because of the lights from the CIC, a menace of another pointless day in the Terminus Systems._

_“Commander? We’re about to enter Amada System. ETA 15 minutes.”_

_“Thank you,” she sighed and downed her coffee. Pressly retreated quietly and closed the door behind him._

_“Duty calls, I hear,” Garrus said quietly, the tone of his voice betraying sorrow and anxiety. She placed a hand on the console, as if it could make her closer to him._

_“I have to go,” she explained. She did not want to._

_“Be safe out there, Jane.”_

_“I’ll try,” she promised, knowing that he asked for something impossible._

* * *

There were not many things that could strike Shepard and make her speechless. All the years of training and service simply taught that being shocked often meant being dead – and dying was an experience she did not want to go through again. At least not too early. But when she and the krogan hauled Archangel onto the floor, when he raised himself to a standing position and moved away to his team, his hands visibly shaking and his whole body tense...

‘You’re welcome,’ she wanted to say. ‘You ungrateful turian bastard,’ she wanted to yell at him, but he did not even face her. He went to check if his people were all right, and left her standing near the destroyed bridge, rooted to the spot and staring at the weapons strapped to his back. It was an assault rifle – an old, slightly damaged, but well-kept Geth Pulse Rifle – and a sniper rifle of the HMWSR line, mark X.

She suspected that the Spectre Master Gear could sometimes be found on the black market – it might have happened that some crazy person rubbed an unlucky Spectre and sold his or her weapons. But his was not the case. She _knew_ that rifle.

She had bought it herself, had it engraved with Garrus’ facial markings and given it to him on his birthday, about three weeks after the battle of the Citadel.

Either Garrus had gotten rid of it – which was impossible – or the Archangel was actually him – which was even _more_ impossible, because Garrus would have greeted her, right? He would have told her it was him. He would have said he was happy to see her.

He would not have acted like a stranger.

Would he?

A part of her mind reminded her that he had not answered any of her mails or calls. So maybe he wanted the past to stay in the past. Maybe he was doing better without her. Maybe he realised that the constant struggle though the dark side of an interspecies relationship was too difficult to endure and not worth of that little bright side. Maybe he just got tired of their complicated beginnings and the need of working, working and working again to change it into something better. Maybe she should just let him go.

Only she was not ready for it. She could not do it. _Would not_ do it.

“Are you all right, siha?” Thane asked, his words muted as if she was hearing them from the other side of a thick veil of mist. “You seem tense.”

Shepard winced. His voice was full of concern, but it was not _his_ concern she wanted now. “I’m fine,” she snapped at him, when an instinct got better of her.

“Are you sure? Becau—“

“I said I’m fine! Which part of it didn’t you understand?”

He blinked and took a step back, and she realised she made him hurt. Great, that was _exactly_ what she needed right now.

“Of course,” Krios said quietly, politely and calmly as always. “Forgive me, I will not ask again.”

“Thane, listen, I’m—“

“ _Shepard_?” EDI’s voice interrupted her in the middle of a sentence.

“What?!” she yelled at the AI, and some part of her mind registered that the room fell silent.

“ _I have found interesting schematics in the main console of the base. They seem to be—_ “

“And who the fuck have given you permission to hack their computer, EDI?” she hissed, long past caring about the audience. They would not understand what this was all about anyway.

“ _I did it order to enlarge the radius of my sensors in that area,_ ” the AI’s mechanical voice had an offended edge to it. “ _You were occupied, so Miss Goto linked me to the console_.”

Jane sighed and rubbed her temples. She was getting headaches lately, usually after fire fights – bad and unusual enough to distract her. She guessed that getting used to the noise of guns again was going to take more time than she thought.

“What’s this thing you’ve found?” she asked at last, hoping that today was the day when the headache would go away before it really came.

“ _The schematics for the turian-made Thanix Magnetic-Hydrodynamic Cannon. When installed, it would give us a considerable advantage over the Collector ship._ ”

A memory of the old _Normandy_ exploding above Alchera flickered in Shepard’s mind. No way in hell she was going to go through something like that again. “Download them, EDI, what are you waiting for?”

“ _As you wish, Shepard._ ”

“Commander?”

She turned around to face nervous Butler, and her mind registered that the Archangel was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell did he go?

“Commander, my boss asked me to tell you—“

“Where is he?” she interrupted him, and Butler swallowed. She could tell that something was wrong. Call it a gut feeling, or an intuition – it did not matter. She always followed her instinct, and she knew from the beginning that this mission sucked. But she was not going to back down – especially not when the Archangel was carrying Garrus’ weapons.

Not when he could actually _be_ Garrus.

“He asked me to escort you—“

“Kasumi, where is the Archangel?” Jane asked one of her faithful shadows, completely ignoring Mark Butler.

“Upstairs,” Goto answered immediately. “Go get him, Shep, me and Thane’ll make sure that EDI finished her download.”

She nodded and took a step towards the stairs, but Butler grabbed her hand and looked at her pleadingly. “Commander, you can’t...”

“I _can’t_?” she said slowly and she needed a while to realise that she sounded almost like Saren. “I think you miss here something, Butler. Do you really want to tell the Spectre what she can or can’t do?”

“Please, don’t do this,” he whimpered, letting go of his grip on her hand. She regarded him questioningly, but he just dropped his gaze to the floor.

“You may try to stop me, if you want.”

“Just... leave, Commander.”

“Well, it’s not an option, Mr Butler.”

It never was.

* * *

She found him sitting on one of few beds which survived the destruction brought by the gunship. He was staring at the photo frame in his hands, not moving, not giving any sound. She realised that she was reluctant to disturb him, but now was not the time for a gentle ‘take-your-time-I’ll-come-back-later’.

“I must say it was difficult to find you.”

“Won’t you answer me?” she growled, feeling all the anger she tried to suppress suddenly going to the surface again. He did not even... “You didn’t even thank me for saving your sorry ass!”

He raised his head and looked at her. “Thank you,” he said mechanically in this depersonalised voice. Helmets be damned.

But hey, there was a progress. She made him speak.

“Pull yourself together, angel, and listen to me. I came here to offer you a job. Join my team and help me deal with the Collectors.”

He gave out a short bitter laughter, which actually sounded more like a bark, then stood up. “And why should I join you? Really, give me one serious reason why I should leave my people and team up with you, _Commander_.”

The way he said it sounded like an insult, but she decided not to react. Instead, she tried to recall what the dossier said about him. Tech expert? She had those. Exceptional sniper? No need. Brilliant tactician? She could use it. Yes, brilliant tactician could be worth all the trouble.

“I need you.”

He growled and smashed the photo against the wall near Shepard. She did not flinch. Neither did she, when he closed the distance between them in two big steps and lowered his head.

He was close, so close that her nose was almost touching his helmet. She inhaled his smell – fire, blood, metal scent of his armour, and something weak, yet familiar.

_This can’t be Garrus._

“Then tell me, Commander Shepard...”

_Garrus would be happy to see me._

“..where the hell were you when _I_ needed _you_?!”

She felt her legs getting weak, when the helmet did not strip that furious yell of all personal traits, or maybe that was the yell itself that convinced her. Hundreds of questions flooded her mind and she could articulate none of them. She was just leaning against the wall, surrounded by shards of glass, looking at the turian in front of her.

“Tell me,” he repeated. “Where were you? _Where_ were you?!”

He pressed his hands against the wall on both sides of her head, cutting off any possible way of escape. Not that she wanted to.

“Had you gotten so tired of me that you faked your own death to become free?”

Did she really think that it would be a happy reunion? She could not even remember, but now every word spoken by him was like a dagger stabbing her right into her heart. How could she expect a warm welcome when their beginnings had been... complicated, to say at least?

And now they came back to the point where they had started – arguing and accusations on both sides.

“Garrus,” she finally whispered. “Garrus, I didn’t—“

“You didn’t _what_?” he hissed. “Didn’t want it? Didn’t mean it? Didn’t know what you were going to put me through?!”

“Right, because all I was thinking about when I got spaced was how nice it would be to live without you!” she yelled, losing her temper. How dared he?

“I had to organise your funeral,” he said slowly, his voice suddenly emptied of anger and any other emotion, unsettlingly calm and hollow. “Then I had to stare at the empty coffin, knowing that my wife’s body had burnt in the atmosphere of a fucking planet in the middle of nowhere. If I hadn’t stared at it, I’d have killed the Council, because it was all their fault.”

“Actually, I suffocated before I hit the atmosphere,” Jane tried to joke and smile, but failed because he just growled angrily and took a step back. How did she plan to handle ‘I’m back from the dead’ issue once again?

“I’ve spent the last two years mourning your death, trying to put my life back together,” he continued. “Hoping that you’d come back and knowing that’s impossible. And now when you _are_ back, I don’t know who you are anymore. I don’t even know if you are... you.”

She opened her mouth and closed it after a moment of consideration. It was obvious that words could not solve this problem, so she just slowly raised her hands and put them on his neck. Her fingers found their way to the clasps of his helmet and started undoing them, but he caught her wrists in one, swift movement.

“Don’t,” was all he said. She gave him a questioning look. “It’s not a... pretty sight.”

“Hell, honey,” she smiled playfully, trying to ease the tension, “you were always ugly. I’m used to it.”

He hesitated for a moment, then dropped his hands. Shepard tried to ignore her shaking hands and galloping heartbeat as she undid the clasps and removed the helmet. Garrus immediately looked away, so she just threw the helmet onto the floor and put both hands on sides of his face, face she missed so much.

She knew that something was wrong even before she gently turn his head around so that she would look him in the eyes again. What was under her left palm was far too soft and too warm than she remembered, it also did not feel like the cartilage on the rest of his face. Understanding hit her like a hammer when she saw that there was _no_ cartilage on the right side of his face anymore, for it was covered in jagged scars, reaching even his neck, scars which were not quite obscured by bandages. Her mind told her to make a connection between the scars and the scorched collar of his armour when she was looking at the half-destroyed markings on the injured cheek, markings she used to admire, then hate, and finally love.

She felt her throat tightening with unwanted urge to cry. “Wha—what happened?” she managed at last, raising a hand and gently tracing the line of his right mandible which still did not look quite healed.

He stood annoyingly still, and his eyes were those of a stranger. “A gunship,” he answered coolly. She waited for an elaboration, but it did not come. Neither he moved, so she let her hand fall and forced herself to look into his blue eyes, once so passionate, now cold as ice.

“Garrus,” she pleaded, “talk to me. Don’t—“

“The last two years,” he cut her off. “Unless you’re a clone, or some crazy fan after a plastic surgery, would you mind telling me where have you been? Why did you make me think you’re dead? I thought... I thought that we solved our problems. That everything was going well between us.”

She had a made-up story to tell – about the mission she had been doing, about two years under cover spent on trying to destroy Cerberus from within on the Council’s order. But that was for the Archangel, person she did not know. For Garrus there was only the truth. She owed him that.

“Garrus, I...” she began and closed her eyes, recalling those horrid moment that no training could have prepared her to. “The last thing I remember is losing oxygen above Alchera. Then I woke up for a few seconds in a place I didn’t recognise, seeing people I didn’t know. They flooded me with sedatives, so I lost consciousness again and regained it only a few weeks ago. Turned out it was a lab in a Cerberus facility.”

He blinked a few times, his eyes slowly losing the hostility. “Cerberus? After everything we’ve done to them two years ago?”

“We don’t get along too well,” she admitted, wincing. “But it’s a necessary evil for now. Not for long, though.”

“So they rescued you after the _Normandy_ blew up, am I getting it right?”

“No, they stole my corpse from the Shadow Broker and made it—me the only test subject of the Lazarus Project,” she explained. “It took two years, four billions and terrifying amount of cybernetics to make my body working again. And as you can see on my face, they didn’t quite finish the job, because the facility was sabotaged and attacked. And all this fuss of me because of the Reapers and the Collectors.”

“Am I supposed to believe that?” he growled suspiciously, and she knew that this was going to be his reaction. She would not have believed that too if it had not happened to her.

“I saw enough of logs and photos to know that I’m not a clone, that I’m me,” she said. “I know what happened. I know you can’t believe the story. But can’t you believe _me_?”

He was looking at her a while, then raised a hand and hesitantly touched the scars on her face, awakening the familiar, almost forgotten feeling she wanted to experience again since she had awoken in a cold, sterile lab. The feeling of belonging and care, and safety. The feeling of being in his arms.

“Why didn’t you answer my messages?” she asked silently.

“I thought that my father or Alenko were making fool of me,” he admitted bitterly.

She snickered uncontrollably. “Garrus, you’re such an idiot.”

“Says a cosmic zombie,” he riposted with a huge grin, and suddenly pulled her into a desperate embrace. She wrapped her arms around him with an equal strength. “I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” she whispered into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin. In this moment she thought that everything could be okay at last.

His arms tightened around her. “Jane, this mission you told me about...”

“We can sort it out later,” she murmured. The Mission – definitely in a capital letter – was the last thing she wanted to think or talk about now.

“Jane, I can’t go with you.”

Shepard blinked and looked him in the eyes. She could not recognise the grimace on his face. “What do you mean ‘you can’t’?”

“I have to take care of my people, especially now when mercs are trying to wipe us out,” he pressed his forehead against hers, but she almost did not feel it. What he said was too bizarre – like an unexpected punch in the gut. “I can’t leave them. Not now. I need time to make sure they’re safe.”

She needed a while to process the information, for her mind stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. “Are... Are you kidding me?”

“What do you expect me to do?” he asked helplessly. “Throw everything away and go with you, just like that? I can’t, and despite I _want_ to go with you so badly, I have my responsibilities here. Those people down there _are_ my responsibilities. Would you leave your team just because I asked?”

“Your team, my team, it doesn’t matter,” she breathed. “You and me? Us? This is what really matters. I needed to die to realise that, but...”

Words failed her, but he just hung his head. “I can’t.”

An image of Livia flashed in Shepard’s mind. “Is it because of them,” she heard herself speaking, “or because of _her_?”

“Her?” he repeated with incredulity. “What he—oh. You mean Melanis?”

Jane had a weird feeling that whatever she was about to hear, was going to bring her dangerously close to the point where a broken heart did not hurt anymore. She did not even know it was possible.

“Look...” Garrus nervously rubbed the back of his neck, and that one word and gesture pushed her down the precipice of nothingness. “I thought you were dead... It was the second anniversary, I got drunk... Melanis took advantage of it, and she’d under the bad impression ever since. There’s _nothing_ between us – at least on my side. It was far too early for me to have a new mate.”

It was definitely the _worst_ explanation she ever heard – maybe because he did not try to deny it. It should have hurt – but it did not. Facts were just stacking in her mind, getting ready to be acknowledged – and she dreaded that moment, because she knew it was going to leave her mentally crawling and shattered. And she could not afford to go through various stages of rejection, depression or whatever else would happen to her in a situation such as this. She _had_ to be more than 100% capable of leading her team to hell of the Collector homeworld and back – and now, because of this one conversation, the strength she needed to lead them was slowly vanishing, leaving only emptiness.

Did she really think this meeting would go well?

“Tell me if I understand it correctly,” she rubbed her temples, trying to ease the pain. Headache came, no matter how badly she wanted it not to. “You slept with that barefaced bitch ‘cause you were drunk? It seems that lots of bad things happen when you’re drunk. I guess that our marriage is the best example of this.”

He looked at her seriously, and she noticed sorrow in his eyes. She was trying hard not to show hers. Why could not it be all right? Why did their first meeting after two years have to be just another fight and a theatre of disappointment?

Maybe they really were not meant to be together.

“I don’t regret our marriage,” he said quietly. “I never have. Do you?”

Jane pictured him in a bed with Livia and yes, it seemed better, _natural_. Definitely more natural than with her. But it already hurt like hell, and she could not imagine how much would it hurt if she decided to let him go.

“I...” she began, not knowing if she could do the first step. “I don’t know.”

Garrus’ face winced in a painful grimace, as if he was hit with something heavy. Maybe a chair. Or even a table. And when she thought that nothing could hurt more than what she already heard and said, somehow the look on his face added even more to her grief.

“Jane, I don’t want to lose you again. I _can’t_ lose you again.”

“There’s a high probability that I’m going to die in the next two weeks,” she said flatly. How many times did she actually hear that her great mission was a suicide one? Definitely more than she could count. “So you better get used to the thought that you may become a widower... again.”

He was looking at her a long while, then raised a hand but did not make a final move. Neither did she – as if an invisible wall appeared between them and it was already too high to jump over.

“Take care of yourself, please,” he whispered. “And call me once you’re back.”

Shepard felt something warm on her face and touched her cheek. She did not even realise when she started crying, but she had a feeling that she was going to cry _a lot_ in the next few days.

“Goodbye, Garrus.”


	5. Chapter 5

It had all fallen to pieces. Like dominoes or a castle made of cards, when an accidentally touched block or card was ruining the entire work, leaving only mess, frustration and regret, a mere shade of once good thing,

And it had been his own fault, his alone.

He should have been their strength, their anchor in the storm, their guarantee of safety. And yet he had failed to be those – he had failed to be a leader. Not because of Sidonis’ betrayal – though granted, he should have seen it coming. He should have kept his team united in one-for-all-and-all-for-one way, but they had changed into ones where ‘all’ was no more. It also did not hurt as much as it should have.

The feeling that he did not care anymore was the worst part of it.

He dreamt of having Jane back, of Jane being alive again – he dreamt such dreams countless times. And now she _was_ back – may the spirits bless the modern science – but he refused to go with her, claiming that the responsibility to his team was more important than any of crazy crusades. He had never lied to her before, but he _was_ lying when he told ‘No’ and he could not get rid of a bitter aftertaste of that lie.

He lied, because he was afraid. Because having to learn how to live without Jane, he forgot how to live _with_ her. He was afraid that she would reject him, because he had changed. Her death had changed him, or maybe these two years had, when he had been trying to do something with his pointless life.

So he lied and let his most important responsibility walk away from him. So he lost her again. And when he did, everything else suddenly lost its importance.

* * *

_He followed her downstairs, still shocked too much to say anything more than simple sentences, still angry at himself for telling her ‘No’, still hating himself for making her cry. It was a miracle that she was back, his Jane – and he just threw this miracle out of the airlock as though it meant nothing._

_“Boss?”_

_He looked at Taelo Mierin. The salarian seemed to be calm, but worry shone in his eyes, just as in the eyes of the rest of his people. They were thinking that he was leaving them and hell, he wanted to. He wanted to go with Jane, and at least Butler knew about it. Hopefully he did not tell the others._

_“It’s all right, Mierin,” Garrus said, hoping that his voice was reassuring. Taelo visibly relaxed, just like the rest of them._

What have I done? _, he thought._ What have I done?

_“Shep, are you okay?” asked the hooded woman he did not know. She was probably a part of Jane’s team, just like that drell who was looking at him with obvious hostility. Garrus returned the glare, hoping that the drell was not about to hug his wife or to do something else to comfort her. If he did, he was going to find out what it was like to face a furious turian._

_“I’m fine, Kasumi,” Jane answered, trying hard to make her voice sound normal. “Has EDI finished her download?”_

Who the hell is ‘EDI’?

 _“Yes, we’re good to go,” Kasumi –_ where have I heard this name? – _said and looked at him questioningly. “Is he coming?”_

_Jane glanced at him and he felt her glance like a missile, full of disappointment, hurt, incredulity and anger. Somehow it was more painful than the real missile he had been wounded by._

_“No,” she said bitterly. “Let’s leave this fucking rock, people, I don’t wanna see it again in my life. Besides, a dead Reaper’s waiting for us.”_

_“As you wish, siha,” the drell said, and Garrus’ blood boiled. Oh yes, the frog-boy was about to face a_ very _furious turian, and sooner rather than later. Then something struck his mind and managed to calm him a little._

_“Have you found a dead Reaper?” he asked, and Jane looked at him. Her eyes were so strange now, and he wondered again if it was really her._

_“Yeah,” she admitted and folded her arms. “And I’m going to board it.”_

_“Can somebody tell me what the hell is a Reaper?” Livia Melanis growled in annoyance, but he did not bother to answer. Instead of doing that, he took a step towards Jane. He had a vague impression that everyone’s eyes were fixed on both of them. He did not care, though._

_“Are you insane?_! _” he yelled and she winced at his words. “Do you even hear yourself? You want to board one of those... things, knowing what they are and they’re capable of?_! _”_

 _“It’s_ dead _for 37 millions of years!” she shouted, and Garrus realised that she just lost her temper. This was going to end badly. Probably for him. “Do you really think it can do_ anything _after so much time? If it could, the rest would have fixed it during one cycle or another.”_

_“Maybe it’s useless,” he agreed, “but it doesn’t mean it’s not conscious. And if it’s conscious, it indoctrinates.”_

_“I’m more than half a machine now,” she scowled. “Maybe it’ll think that I’m an ally and leave me alone. If not, you know what to do with an indoctrinated Spectre.”_

_He couldn’t believe his own ears. “Since when are you acting so reckless?”_

_“Since when do you care?” she retorted and turned around. “Just show me where the exit is.”_

_“Hold on, bitch!” Vortash yelled suddenly. “I’ve promised you something.”_

_Jane turned around to look at the batarian, Garrus did so as well, feeling rage at his words mixed with curiosity about what could cause them. He was afraid that she might want to react on someone – and that someone would be either him, or the first batarian she would encounter. And that meant his subordinate._

_Subordinate who was currently playing with fire that Jane’s temper was and always had been._

_“Do you really want to take your chance with me?” she asked and drew her assault rifle. “Fine, go ahead, you batarian piece of shit.”_

_Vortash grinned and took his weapon too. Garrus had a moment to think ‘_ What the hell... _’, before he hastily took a position between the two of them._

_“Get out of the way,” she ordered. “You don’t wanna get hurt.”_

_He knew her tone and the expression of her face. They whispered of an upcoming bloodshed._

_“The bitch is right, boss,” Vortash said, and Garrus experienced a brief but strong urge to break his neck. No one was allowed to talk like that about his wife. No one. “It’s between her and me, it doesn’t affect you. You wouldn’t understand it anyway.”_

_“Everything that affects her, affects me as well,” those words were out of his mouth before he could even think that it would have been better not to vocalise them. “So cut the crap and tell what do you want from her.”_

_Garrus was half-aware of surprised and somewhat hurt looks in his team-mates’ eyes. There he was, taking side of a woman he was supposed to meet for the first time in his life and defending_ her _, not one of them. They were meant to be a team, a whole – and this situation was just the first of many cracks that were about to come and tear them apart._

_Vortash took a few steps forwards and looked him in the eyes. “She’s a murderer. She should’ve been punished for what she’d done to my people, but she wasn’t!”_

Torfan. Oh shit.

_“And I’d do it again,” came a sweet response from behind Garrus’ back. He let out a curse under his breath. Why could she not keep mouth shut and let him deal with this? “Oh, I’d do it again twice for what your ‘people’ did on Mindoir and Elysium.”_

_“They were innocent!” Vortash hissed._

_“Give me a break,” Garrus growled and reached out behind to take Jane’s hand. After a while her fingers reassuringly tightened around his. “I know more about Torfan than you ever have. Now put your gun down or I’ll put_ you _down.”_

_“I vowed to avenge my brother!” the batarian cried out. Garrus had a feeling that this conversation was leading either to nothing or to a massacre, because he was fully aware of how thin Jane’s patience was._

_“She’s a Spectre,” he finally said. “One of the best. This is nowhere near your league, Vortash. Prove yourself that you’re actually worth of something and avenge your brother by being a better person than he was. Put your gun down and let her leave or we’re all going to regret this.”_

_His subordinate’s hand wavered and Garrus did not waste time to lose the opportunity. The exit was close, so he pulled at Jane’s hand – his mind did not want to acknowledge that he might hold her for the last time – and showed her the way. If everything—_

_“NO!” Vortash yelled and fired. Jane’s kinetic shields absorbed his first shot and the second never came._

_Garrus lost his ability to think clearly. The instinct of protecting his bondmate replaced it, stronger than rationality and almost impossible to resist. He let go of Jane’s hand, shielded her with his own body, drew his pistol and fired before she could even react._

_His shot did not miss the target._

_He was a sniper after all._

* * *

“Boss?”

Garrus raised his head, hearing Mierin’s voice. So unexpected in this place. Even more after everything that had happened. After what he had done. And it seemed that there was no end to the wonders of today – Butler and Melanis were with Taelo. These three were all that was left of the two years of his life.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, genuinely surprised by their visit.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Butler retorted. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this place is?”

Garrus glanced around at the crowds on the main level of _Afterlife_. “I’ve blackmailed Aria,” he said. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

Livia’s mandibles twitched in astonishment. “You did _what_?”

“I’ve blackmailed Aria,” he repeated and chuckled. “Turned out that a good friend of mine’s got unfinished business with her and he would be delighted to know where she is and what name she’s using now.”

“That’s a risky game,” Taelo said in a serious voice. “Be careful, boss.”

“Just... call me Garrus.”

“Somehow it’s easier for me to think about as my superior, not...” Mierin made an awkward gesture with his hand, apparently looking for words. “Well, not as a big hero of the entire galaxy.”

Garrus could not remember why he had not given them his real name, but it probably had had something to do with that label of hero, saviour and whatever else Jane, he and the rest of the team had been called like after the battle of the Citadel. Or maybe he had just wanted to cut himself off the past.

“I’m not a hero,” he said at last. “I was just... shooting things. If not for Ja—Shepard and her determination, we’d all be dead by now. Or worse. It was her stubbornness that saved the galaxy.”

“I doubt if there’s something worse than death,” Livia mused quietly. It was probably the first time she spoke to him after he had killed Vortash in Jane’s defence. Defence she had not needed, but his instinct had not wanted to acknowledge that.

“It is, believe me,” Garrus answered and shivered, remembering all those captured salarians on Virmire. “It is.”

“Oh, really?” Melanis raised her brow plate suspiciously. “And what would it be?”

“Indoctrination. Being a slave of a Reaper.”

“By the spirits, here you go again with these Reapers of yours,” she groaned in irritation. “Either tell us what they are or don’t mention them again, because it’s getting annoying.”

An image of Sovereign looming over the burning Citadel flashed in his mind, as vivid as it had been in reality. With this image came anxiety again – what would Jane possibly be looking for on board of a dead Reaper?

“Would you believe me,” he began slowly, trying to figure out how to say this, “if I told that what most people consider to be Saren’s ship, was in fact an ancient, sentient being?”

“Excuse me?”

“It was a being focused only on bringing back to this galaxy the rest of his kind, so they could have begun a process of wiping out all organic life, just as they do for at least 37 million years.”

“How many drinks did you have?” Livia asked seriously. He expected her to laugh. Seriousness reminded him of the Council’s behaviour far too much than he would have liked.

“You may—“

“Hey, Vakarian!” Aria’s voice cut him off. Garrus folded his arms and her gaze as she approached his table. He hoped that expectancy he felt was not too visible on his face.

“Any news?” he asked. His voice turned out to be calm and steady. Good.

“Your bondmate just docked,” Aria announced smugly. Ah yes, he almost forgot telling her why he needed to know the exact moment of Jane’s arrival at the station. “The word is that she used the Omega 4 relay. Whatever she found in the other side had to be difficult to kill. Her ship’s in pieces. My men told me that’s a miracle it’s still flying.”

“Joker,” Garrus guessed, breathless. If Joker was at the helm, they could be alright. _She_ could be alright. Suddenly he did not give a damn about astonished stares of Taelo and Livia caused by Aria’s careless words revealing the nature of his relationship with Jane. “Which dock?”

“The main hangar bay just outside the club,” she said, and probably added something more, but did not hear it. He was already on his feet, running towards the exit and caring neither about Aria T’Loak nor his former team-mates.

His wife came back. It was all that mattered.


	6. Chapter 6

Garrus Vakarian was not a kind of person that could easily be scared, let alone frightened. He just saw and experienced too much in his life – and above all of that, the awareness of the Reapers’ existence and implications of that fact were making everyday’s worries much simpler and less important. And yet when he saw the docked ship, something similar to a cold hand clenched around his heart and did not want to let go.

She had called her ship the _Normandy_ – that was predictable. It was bigger than the original one though, with slightly different shape and completely different paint. And as much as he wanted to be wrong, a distinctive Cerberus logo did not want to disappear from the hull.

The hull that was almost torn in half.

Could it have been any other way? Jane always ventured in the middle of some big trouble. As a matter of fact, ‘Big Trouble’ could be her second name.

Garrus expected to see a few people in the docking bay, but despite the connected airlock there was none. The empty bay made him uneasy in a way he could not have imagined. If there was no living being here – which his mind did not want to accept – then how did the ship come back?

Tentatively, he approached the airlock and glanced around looking for an entrance console. The panel he found was yellow but he did not plan to waste his time hacking it. He pushed the call button instead. If Joker was in the cockpit, there should be no problem in getting inside.

And so he waited for an answer.

* * *

_Six claw marks on the table were everything he saw. Everything he was_ able _to look at, because he could not gather enough willpower to look into Anderson’s eyes and bear the pity in his not so frequent glances._

_“How...” he began, but his dry throat did not let him finish. He swallowed and tried again. “How did this happen?”_

_“They were attacked by an unknown vessel five hours ago,” Anderson explained in a painful voice. His tone betrayed sorrow at the loss of the woman he loved almost like his own daughter. “A rescue ship arrived twenty minutes after receiving a distress call. All they found were escape pods. Recon mission of a nearby planet revealed that...”_

_Garrus clenched his fists hearing how the words failed the newly appointed Councillor. He felt his heart turning into an icy stone._

_“There was nothing to recover. Instead of a wreckage, they found only shattered pieces.”_

_“What about...” he heard himself speaking, “bodies? Any... survivors?”_

_“It seems that most of the crew survived. We’re still counting. There are thirteen dead at the moment.”_

_“Just say it, captain,” Garrus lost his patience. Crewmen did not matter to him. His wife did. “What happened to Jane?”_

_“She got... spaced,” Anderson nearly choked at the last word. “She was saving Joker, and the blast threw her out into the vacuum. They didn’t find her body. It must have... burnt... in the atmosphere of that planet.”_

_He closed his eyes, trying not to imagine it. By the spirits, it was not even six hours ago when he was talking to her. It was supposed to be her last mission for now, they were planning a vacation to spend some time together. Now what? Coming back to a quiet flat? Waiting for the memorial service, to salute an empty coffin and hear all that bullshit about soldier’s honour and the utmost sacrifice for the galactic safety? Going through the rest of his life without her?_

_What was he supposed to do now?_

_“If they tell me anything else. I’ll let you know,” Anderson promised when there was no reply for his previous words. “Look, Garrus, I know you and Shepard were... close. I know what it’s like to lose someone who’s important to you. Go get some rest. We’ll be in touch.”_

_He let out a bitter chuckle. They were ‘close’? After everything that happened, the old captain still was not able to acknowledge their relationship. Well, it did not matter now. What had been, ended a few hours ago._

_So he left. And never came back._

* * *

“Look, man, I don’t know...” Joker helplessly glanced around, as though the cockpit would tell him what to do. After a quick nice chat things got more complicated, for Jane apparently had put Garrus on a not-allowed-to-enter-the-ship list. He had to admit that a warm welcome was not exactly what he expected.

“Joker, tell her I just want to talk.”

“I have no idea why you’re fighting again, but I don’t wanna get involved,” the pilot defiantly folded his arms. “Simple self-preservation, that’s all. You wanna talk to your girl? Call her.”

“I can’t ca—“

“You’re both worse than spoilt children, ya know?”

“She won’t answer, Joker,” Garrus scowled and saw the pilot’s eyes lightening up with curiosity. “Don’t even ask.”

“What have you done?” he asked anyway. “It must’ve been big to piss her off so much.”

“I screwed up, okay? Now, is it enough to satisfy you?”

“Not exactly,” Joker grinned, showing probably each one of his teeth.

”Then call her and you’ll know the details,” Garrus rubbed his forehead. “Just like the rest of the crew. And probably half of Omega too.”

Joker looked him in the eyes and pointed at one of the consoles after a while of heavy silence. “Call her yourself.”

“Commander Shepard is currently not in her quarters,” a feminine voice suddenly sounded out of nowhere. “Therefore calling her would be ineffective.”

“Uh...” Joker glanced around once again and Garrus noticed anxiety in his eyes. Well, that was weird. On the other hand, he _always_ was weird. “So... where is she?”

“In the lift. Estimated time of arrival in this deck – three seconds.”

“You’ve got quite an eloquent VI these days.”

“Yeah,” the pilot chuckled nervously at the turian’s remark. “VI. Sort of.”

Vakarian was not bothered by his uneasiness and turned around to look in direction of the CIC, just in time to see a large group emerge from the lift. As he could have predicted, the group was multiracial, combined of so various individuals that only Jane could keep them in line. He noticed a young krogan, a quarian, that fucking drell that called his wife ‘siha’ and an old salarian. His eyes widened. Could it be...

“Ah, the Archangel,” Mordin Solus announced happily and hurried to him. “How’s the wound? Got better? Followed my instructions?”

“Yes, thanks, doc,” Garrus muttered and gasped when the quarian hugged him tightly.

“Garrus!” she squealed and he recognised Tali. The galaxy was a small place indeed. “It’s so good to see you! Where have you been these two years? Keelah... what happened to you face?”

“It’s a long story, Tali, I’ll tell you a—“

His voice trailed away when he noticed Jane among the humans of the team. He sucked in a breath at the sight of her. She looked terrible, far worse than when they had met a month or so ago – and even then she had not made an impression of being alright. Now she was even skinnier than usually, her hair flat, bags under her eyes never seemed bigger than these days. She looked...

Well, she looked ill.

She noticed him and her red-dotted eyes widened. Garrus prepared himself for yelling, punch or something else Jane-like, but she just came into the cockpit and folded her arms without a greeting or acknowledging a worried look he gave her.

“EDI?” she said, directing her words at no-one in particular. “EDI, show yourself.”

“You specifically ordered me not to when there is a stranger on board,” sounded a calm answer, and it was the VI’s voice. Garrus had a feeling that there was something about it he was not going to like. At all.

“Now I’m ordering you to show yourself. I don’t like talking to air.”

A glowing blue orb appeared above one of the consoles near Joker’s seat. That was... not exactly what Vakarian expected. He just hoped it was not what he dreaded it to be given its eloquence. Surely she would not be _that_ crazy...

“Now, EDI, can you tell me which part of ‘he shall not pass’ didn’t you understand?”

The orb was silent for a while. “Jeff let him in,” it – she? – said at last and Joker scowled in response.

“Yeah, that’s right, blame the cripple,” he growled. “I think I’ll make use of a mute button again, EDI, mark my words.”

“I merely said the truth, Jeff. I do not want to—“

“Enough,” barked Jane, rubbing her right temple with a shaking hand. Garrus felt a pang of anger. Did no-one notice that something was seriously wrong with her? “It doesn’t matter now. Everyone just go, please. Enjoy your shore leave. You’ve earned it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” the hooded woman – Kasumi, if he remembered well – asked seriously.

“I’m sure,” Jane said and gave her a weak smile. “I must do a damage report, prepare the list of what needs to be repaired... all this boring stuff. Go and don’t worry about me.”

It took them a while to leave and, from what Garrus noticed, Tali, Kasumi and that drell were the most reluctant ones to get off the ship. Joker, on the other hand, adjusted himself in his seat, staring curiously at both of them.

“As I recall, you’re supposed to see Chakwas,” Jane said in a falsely cheerful tone. “Aren’t you?”

“I don’t think it’s—“

“You’ve got broken bones, Joker. Get your ass moving and go to the med bay.”

“Fine, fine,” the pilot muttered and – to Garrus’ utter amazement – actually got up and hobbled down the corridor to the lift. Jane must have noticed his shocked expression because a soft chuckle escaped her mouth.

“He had some special treatment,” she explained. Then her face became serious as she folded her arms. “Now what do _you_ want?”

“I just want to talk.”

“We’ve already talked. I don’t think there’s anything else to say.”

“ _I_ do,” he said sharply and placed both hands on her shoulders. “Don’t do this, Jane. Don’t reject—“

“It’s you who rejected _me_ when I needed you,” she snapped at him and wriggled from his grasp. “Don’t act like you suddenly care. Save it for your... _team_.”

Did he ever hear so much venom in her words? It was very unlikely, and honestly he wasn’t surprised. He was the only one to blame.

“There’s no team anymore.”

An unpleasant smile appeared on her lips. “Oh. So that’s the reason why you remember about me all of sudden. Well, my dear, I don’t care anymore. I’ve got my own problems.”

“Why do you have to be so—“

“Shepard, there is a group of crewmen heading your way,” that orb, EDI, interrupted him. “Given the sensitive subjects of your conversation, I suggest to finish it in your quarters.”

 _Spirits_ , he thought with terror, _she really has an AI on board._

“Thank you, EDI,” Jane said quietly and looked at him, this time without anger. He saw only tiredness in her eyes. “Well, as there _is_ something I think you should know, so we can talk. Follow me and don’t touch anything.”

A few people passed by, saluted and walked away, laughing. Garrus suspected that he would be the main subject of this evening’s gossips. At least as long as they were going to be sober enough to form coherent statements.

All thoughts about it vanished completely when he saw that Jane was able to push a button in the lift only after two futile attempts. If he was not already worried, he would be now. He did not show it though, and when she glanced at him, unsure whether he noticed it or not, he gave her a warm yet shy smile, as thought all he was thinking about was how to sort things out. She smiled faintly in response, grateful for his lie, and he lost hope that it could be alright.

* * *

She offered a seat to him, but remained standing herself, staring at the blue, illuminated fish tank, full of water and with no fish. Not only the tank was empty, but her desk and bedside table as well. He supposed that it reflected her perfectly – empty, burnt, and out of use, just like her old helmet put on one of the tables. As a matter of fact it was the only thing indicating that someone actually lived in these quarters.

It certainly did not bring pleasant memories, so why did she keep it?

“Why did you come, Garrus?” she asked at last and he almost jumped at the sound of his own name. He forgot how it had been to hear it, even if her voice was not warm and caring as it used to be. Now it was empty. Like everything else here.

Like his own life too.

“I know I fucked things up and I’m sorry,” he said, realising that admitting a mistake was probably the best course of action. “And I also know that you have no reason to forgive me, but if there’s any chance that...”

“That what?” she asked softly when he did not finish, and turned around to look at him. Illuminated by the tank, she looked like a ghost. “There’s no happily ever after. Never was. Not for us. And certainly... Certainly not for me.”

“’Don’t be fatalistic,” he growled, annoyed. “You survived who knows how many so called suicide missions. Even the Reapers didn’t manage to stop you and they never will, so don’t give me this crap, Jane.”

“I’ll die before they arrive,” she said calmly and he wanted to object, but words suddenly died in his throat. He realised that she was not calm.

She was resigned.

“What’s going on?” he asked, even when some part of him did not want to know the answer.

“I’m dying, Garrus,” she announced and he fell speechless. What was she talking about? It was too impossible to believe, to sudden to comprehend. She could not die. Not again. She just... could not.

“How...” he began and didn’t even know how to finish.

“It’s a brain cancer,” she explained and swallowed. “Malignant and impossible to remove. Chakwas gave me meds and scheduled a therapy for tomorrow, but there’s no guarantee that...”

He was staring at her, frightened, as his world crumbled around him. Her facade was also starting to fall apart and he realised that she felt just as scared and lost as he was. Who would not be?

His mind raced, trying to recall what little he knew about human diseases. Even despite his lack of experience, he could see it clearly now – her symptoms were obvious and even an optimist would not mistake them for a simple fatigue.

“Haven’t you eradicated this... cancer?” he asked after a moment of heavy silence, hoping that she would say ‘yes’ and it was not as serious as it seemed to be.

“It’s not like that,” she shook her head. “We developed treatments that actually cure it and don’t kill patients in the process. And there are several ways to prevent getting sick, but...”

”But what?”

“My case is different,” she lowered her head and clenched her fists. “When Cerberus was... bringing me back, they wanted to make me a biotic. Exposure to eezo, implants, all that stuff. It didn’t work, all I can do is a simple, weak barrier. However, no one had thought about possible side effects.”

Garrus’ imagination immediately busied itself with picturing every possible way of inflicting pain and death to those responsible of Jane’s illness. It did not make any difference, but it could calm him down a little. Otherwise he would just run and kill each one of Cerberus members he could find.

“What are you going to do?” he heard himself speaking, but it did not even sound like his own voice. Jane shrugged, came closer and sat beside him on the couch.

“I don’t know,” she answered quietly. “I always thought I’d die on the battlefield or in space as... as it already happened. I never wanted to die in bed, weak, useless and miserable, and eaten alive by fucking side effects of sick experiments...”

Voice failed her and her shoulders started shaking as she hid her face in her hands. Garrus did not waste time on thinking better of it and pulled her into embrace, as though it would help her. Even when he realised she was crying, he was not sure which one of them found more comfort in this embrace.

He suspected it was him, because even in his worst nightmares he was not finding her only to lose her again.

“I know I’ve failed you as a bondmate,” he whispered into her hair, “but I’m here if you need me. Always.”

“Just like you were a couple of weeks ago?” she leant back to look into his eyes. He wanted to avoid her gaze, but forced himself not to.

“As I said: I’ve failed you.”

“And how am I supposed to know it won’t happen again?” she asked. “What if, at some point, your people suddenly appear and ask you to come back?”

“They won’t.”

“And what if they do?” she insisted. Garrus had a feeling that it was some kind of test. Or maybe she just needed a confirmation.

“I’ll them to go to hell.”

“Oh, really?”

Garrus stood up, suddenly annoyed. He recently acted like a fool, that was true, but how many times she wanted to hear him admitting that?

“If you want me to go, I’ll do it,” he said. She raised her gaze at him and did not answer, so he hung his head and started his way towards the door. What did he expect, actually? Forgiveness? She was not one who could easily forgive.

“Garrus?” he heard a moment before he pushed the entrance console. His heart quivered at the sudden pang of hope.

“Yes?”

“Don’t go. I... I can’t do this alone.”

He turned around to look at her. She was staring at the floor, as if ashamed to ask for help. He knew her well enough to know how hard it had to be. So he went to her, kneeled on the floor and took her face in his hands.

“I won’t leave you,” he said with force that surprised even him. Tears shone in her eyes as she embraced him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For everything I’ve ever done to you. For not telling things I wanted to. I’m sorry that I had to die to realise how I hurt you.”

“By the spirits, Jane...”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated between sobs.

“Me...” he cleared his suddenly dry throat. “Me too. For ignoring your messages, for not coming with you...”

Voice failed him, so he was just holding her until she calmed dawn, losing track of time and space. This very moment mattered, nothing else, because he was aware now that they might not have much time left.

“So...” he started, unsure whether to finish or not. “What now?”

“Chakwas and Mordin are going to remove the implants and then we’ll see if all these wondrous treatments actually work,” she said. “If they do and I get better, I’ll find the Illusive Man and kill him. For fun.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he objected seriously.

“I know,” she admitted after a while. Still the same, old Jane. “I... I could use a good sniper.”

“ _Only_ a sniper?” he asked, allowing a trace of sadness to sound in his words. She hesitantly took his hand and smiled faintly at him for the first time this day. Probably for the first time in _all_ those days that passed since she had come to Omega looking for the Archangel. His heart melted at this sight.

“No,” she finally answered. “Not only a sniper.”

 

 

THE END


End file.
